A Brief Period in the Life of a Telekinetic
by Leaper
Summary: Sequel to "Push," covering the five years between the ending and the epilogue. Dave Karofsky has made one of the biggest decisions of his life. But the trials and travails of a telekinetic are never easy, and he'll need all the support he can get to find a light at the end of the tunnel. Some Dave/OMC.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: This is the second of what I envision as a trilogy, starting with "Push." This will probably not update as quickly as the first part, because there's a lot to get through, some parts are being difficult to write, and I may yet have to rearrange and/or add events. I really hope to keep up the quality, even as I continue to work and complete previous projects as well as this. Thanks to those of you who've stuck by me!**

The reality — the enormity — of what Dave Karofsky was doing was driven home for him when he made his goodbye video.

He recorded it in what looked from the outside like a normal semi-trailer, but inside was more like a cross between a research lab and a hospital room, bristling with computers and high tech equipment he couldn't even fathom the function of. A car had taken him, Brody, and the two goons (as Dave called them; it struck him as a Kurt-ish way to refer to them) to a warehouse in a quiet corner of a New York industrial district. The trailer was open and waiting for them when they arrived; he could just make out a pair of white coated men peering out, as if in eager anticipation.

The goons parked the car next to the trailer and opened the door for him. Dave knew this was his last chance to change his mind, or escape. But the thought of Kurt, which once might have convinced him to stay, now convinced him that this was something he had to do. Brody stayed in the car as Dave exited; he turned to the pyrokinetic just as he stepped out.

"You'd better keep your promise," Dave snarled. "If I ever find out that you let Kurt get hurt—"

"I know." The reply wasn't sarcastic, but weary; of what, Dave wasn't sure. "I know I won't be able to convince you — not right now — but Kurt and your father and Rachel will be safe. I swear."

"You tried to kidnap me, so excuse me if I don't believe you."

"I thought it was for your own good," Brody said in a strained voice through gritted teeth. "But Kurt was right: it was a mistake, one that I tried to fix."

"Yeah, well, maybe sometime you can tell me what would've happened to me if you hadn't."

"Nothing bad. You just would've been taken someplace different." Brody paused. "But I suppose you wouldn't believe that either. I guess that's my fault, isn't it?" What was that in Brody's voice? Bitterness, maybe? Of who or what? Maybe it wasn't important.

There was little else Dave could say. He nodded and started up the ramp to the trailer without another word. The presence of the two goons to either side of him reminded Dave that had things gone slightly differently, he probably would've been carried into that very trailer unconscious. The room barely shook when it was hitched onto a cab and pulled out into the city streets; one of the taciturn men with him deigned to briefly explain that the trailer had some kind of special "inertial dampeners." It all sounded rather Star Trek to Dave.

A few minutes into the ride, they (or at least, one of the white-coated people who'd introduced himself as an "intake specialist"; Dave couldn't remember the bland, generic man's bland, generic name) asked him to record a video. "For what?" he asked.

"For the record," the doctor said. "That you're here of your own free will. It's also for possible outside contact."

Dave's heart leaped. "Possible outside...?"

"Once you're at the facility, you'll need to stay there. I'm afraid that's policy for active talents like you."

"Active...?"

"Able to detectably affect the world around you. Non-powered staff and passive talents are able to come and go more freely." The doctor's face had what looked like actual sympathy; that made it a little easier to swallow. "It's necessary to maintain the integrity of your cover story. The less chance the people in your life have to accidentally interact with you while you're with us, the better, for them as well as for you."

Dave gulped. "So, this video is kind of a... goodbye letter?"

"In a sense."

"What should I say?"

The doctor moved a chair behind Dave, and a small table in front of him. It held an open laptop; the webcam was already on. Dave couldn't help but look at his digital reflection. "Your name, your talent, that you're entering of your own accord, with no interference or coercion."

"It's that important?" Dave asked.

"It is. This organization works for _everyone_, David: talents and the rest of humanity. It's all too easy to skid down the slippery slope, especially with something as world-shaking as talents, and this is just one step we take to make sure we stay true to our core principles."

_Maybe these guys are for real after all_, Dave thought. The doctor certainly _sounded_ sincere. Still, it was a hard thing, turning to that camera and saying those first words. _My goodbye note. How long will it be before I see any of my friends or family again? How long will it take to gain control? What's waiting for me on the other side of this ride?_

"You can also give any well-wishes you want to those you're leaving behind," the doctor continued, his tone becoming gentler and warmer. "I can't guarantee any of them will ever see it, but we find that having the option helps — both us and the talent." Dave nodded, trying to keep his emotions in check. "Whenever you're ready, press the F4 key. Press it again when you're done."

Dave looked at himself on the screen, almost hoping he'd tell himself what to do, what to think. He inhaled, pressed F4, and began to speak. "My name is David Karofsky. I'm a telekinetic." God, he sounded like one of those AA stereotype jokes. "I've... been told that someone I know might see this, so maybe I should prove it." He glanced over at his side; a pen laying next to the laptop rose into the air and glided into view of the camera. It hovered in front of Dave's face for a moment, did a couple of loops, and lowered itself back out of frame. "That's, uh... That's the least of what I can do. It's... kind of freaky, to be honest, but that's what I'm going away for.

"Oh, yeah, I should say that I'm entering the Agency of my own free will. I chose this, because I need to learn how to control my power. I want..." Dave licked his lips. "I want to make a difference. I've got a lot to make up for in my life, and I feel like I have a responsibility to use my power to do it. I just don't know how... if there even is a way. Even if there is, I can't, not by myself, not with the control I have now. That's why I decided to do this.

"Dad, if you're seeing this, don't worry about me. I'll figure things out, and I'll be a better man for it. Kurt, again, thank you so much for everything you've done for me. This decision was made easier knowing that you'd be protected. Live your life while I'm gone, but I'd prefer you wait to marry Adam until after I come back. I get dibs on being your best man. Rachel, I have no idea how you got hold of this or why you're watching it, but yes, it's true, I'm a psychic, and no, I won't use my power to help you in your next Broadway show. Santana, we both know how much you love Brittany. You two had better be back together by the time I see you again.

"But... I'm going to be gone for a long time. I don't know how long. I just... I love you all. I'll miss you guys..." Dave bit the inside of his cheek; the pain helped, but not much. "I hope when I come back, you'll still have room in your lives for me, and..." A tear stung his upper lip with saltiness. God, he was being silly, he knew that. Even if he was riding to some kind of doom, he knew he'd escape (after all, hadn't he promised Kurt?). And if this place really was what they said they were, and they let him go with mastery over his telekinesis, the people in his life would welcome him back at once, right? None of that changed the fact that he was going away, stepping into an unknown future, leaving behind everything that was familiar, everything that he loved, and he didn't know when he'd be able to return to any of that, if ever...

With a shaking finger, Dave pressed F4 again. He couldn't go on. Wiping his eyes, he looked up at the doctor. The sympathy remained, but his face was otherwise neutral. How many of these had he seen? How many other talents had recorded similar tearful farewells? Were they easier or harder than the ones (and there had to be some) who had no one to say goodbye to, or only "good riddance"s?

"We'll be on the road for several hours," the doctor said. "You can take a rest if you want." He nodded towards a hospital-style bed, bolted to the floor and already outfitted with a blanket and sheets. "If you'd like something to eat or drink, let me know. The bathroom is that grey door in the back."

Dave nodded dumbly, rising from the chair. He was emotionally exhausted — or maybe still lingering effects of whatever drug Brody gave him. It occurred to him that it may not be the best idea to sleep, not until he knew exactly what the Agency was, but he was too tired to care. He slipped onto the bed, under the surprisingly comfortable covers, and was asleep the instant he closed his eyes.

* * *

His sleep was, as far as he could remember later, dreamless. No, wait, he remembered snatches of feelings, images: despair, Kurt, fear, Brody, Santana, an alley, hope...

Dave raised his head a little, blinking. He glanced at his watch; over eight hours had passed, and as far as he could hear of the outside, they were still on the move. He considered trying to get some more sleep — who knew when they'd arrive at their destination? — but his mind was already working again, his heart starting to pump with anticipation and the adrenaline it brought, and knew it'd be pointless. Dave smacked his dry mouth as he rose, rubbing the grit out of his eyes. The doctors weren't in sight, but knew that this particular area probably only covered three quarters of the length of the trailer, and there was still one mysterious door — red — that no one had bothered to explain to him. The two goons were lounging around, one reading the New York Times and the other playing solitaire. They looked up as Dave slipped out from under the covers.

"We almost there?" Dave asked, and to his surprise, one of them actually answered.

"Not far now," the paper reading one said, returning his gaze to the business section. "Another hour or so."

Dave had no idea what that said about where they were going; in a world of psychic powers and high technology unknown to the general public, never mind shadowy organizations who probably knew a back road or ten, time could be deceiving. "Mind if I get a drink, or...?"

The card playing one rose. "We got water, soda..."

"Water's fine." The goon opened a cabinet, which turned out to be a small refrigerator. He plucked out a bottle of water and tossed it towards Dave. He plucked it out of the air (with his hand; no sense risking exploding the thing with his power) and opened it. The cool drink immediately soothed his parched throat. "Thanks." The goon grunted and returned to his game. Dave took another swig. It was silent, except for the rumble of the road underneath them, the snapping of playing cards, and the rattle of some glass beakers in a stand. "Uh... don't take this question wrong or anything..." The goons looked up again. Hell, he wasn't even sure why he was asking this to begin with, but it was better than the silence. "But... what's keeping me from, y'know... Busting out of here? Just taking apart this whole room and escaping? Because I know there's gotta be _something_, but..."

The goons glanced at each other; were they smirking? "Us, for one thing," the newspaper reading one said. "But there's also the doctors in the back room."

"What can you guys do? Are any of you... uh, talents?"

"Nope," said the card playing one. "But we've all got a lot of time and training with them, and... Let's just say we know how to handle ourselves."

"Okay..." Dave took another drink; anything to keep his mind from plunging into the depths they were preparing to dive into...

"And this room," the card playing one added. "If you did try messing with it... You'd find it a lot harder than you'd think. Why do you think we need this whole thing to transport just you? Because it's built for people like you."

Now that was interesting. "Really?"

"The docs have tried to explain how they do it. Don't understand it all, myself. But think of it this way, kid: you're going somewhere with a bunch of other kids, just like you, with all kinds of weird powers. One building. A massive building, but still just one building. And it holds _all_ those people, no matter how out of control their shit gets. You think that'd be possible with just any normal construction?"

Dave was about to protest the "kid" moniker; these men couldn't have been _that_ much older than Dave — ten years tops. But it was lost in contemplation of the larger point. What the goon had just said was certainly true; any facility that housed talents — people who were probably just as powerful as Dave, if not more so — would have to be as special as those within it. And now that he thought about it, what if the power was something mental, like mind control or possession or something like that? Wouldn't they have to have some kind of guard or shield against those too, in case the talent went rogue or out of control? It'd only make sense, or their whole mission would be pointless.

Then the other part of the goon's explanation hit home: other talents. He really was on his way to meeting other talents... Other people like him. Brody even said there was another telekinetic... Dave couldn't name the emotions welling up in him: anticipation, relief, nervousness... Maybe it was all of that and more. The water bottle creaked under his tightening grip.

"Hey, kid." Dave looked up; the newspaper playing one had joined his comrade at the table. "You know how to play cribbage?"

Dave blinked. "Uh... I think so. It's been a few years since I've played, though; I don't know if I remember all the rules..."

The solitaire playing goon was shuffling his deck now; he waved Dave over as the other twisted around in his chair to open a cabinet behind him and take out a wooden board dotted with holes. "C'mon. We'll play three handed."

Dave blinked again. Then, without even thinking about it, he slid off the bed. He sat in the empty chair and watched as the goon dealt out cards: five to each of them, and one onto the center of the table, next to the board. Dave picked up his hand (five of diamonds, definitely keeping that... but should he keep his king, or the nine to go with the seven and the eight, and hope to cut a ten?). Some small voice within him said this might be the last time he could pretend to be Dave Karofsky, normal human, so he might as well enjoy it while he could.

"Seven."

"Fourteen for two."

"Fifteen for two."

And the truck drove on through the night.

* * *

They'd just finished their round, with Dave winning, when something buzzed. One of the goons took out a cell phone and glanced at the screen. "We're here." The red door opened and the doctors emerged.

There was a subtle shift under Dave's feet that he could feel. Then the low-level rumbling that his brain had tuned out for hours ceased, leaving the room almost eerily silent. The door ground open; Dave stood. A balding man, scarecrow-lean with wire-rimmed glasses and a magnanimous smile, was standing outside, on some kind of concrete platform; it took Dave a moment to recognize it as a standard loading dock. "Hello, David," the man said as the doctors stepped forward. He gave them both nods, and they traded clipboards and hurried words before the doctors strode past the man, towards the back of the loading dock. Dave watched as they passed through pools of bright light, pause in front of a door, enter it, and vanish into whatever building the truck was backed up against. "I'm Dr. Rosemont," the man said, startling Dave; he'd almost forgotten he was there. He held out a hand as Dave approached; they shook. "Welcome."

"Uh... Thanks?" Dave had no idea if that was the right thing to say; what _was_ the etiquette for greeting a scientist in the worldwide organization you were entering to learn about your psychic powers?

"Follow me; we'll get you situated right away." Dr. Rosemont nodded towards the goons and turned. Dave followed, stepping out into the slight chill of the early morning. He looked around as best as he could; as far as he could tell, the buildings around them looked like a bog standard industrial park — one that had seen better days. The one they were entering could've been any concrete and glass office building anywhere in the country.

The two approached the door the doctors had gone through; only now did Dave notice the two security cameras above it gently sweeping the loading dock. Dr. Rosemont raised a key card towards a sensor; it beeped. He then typed rapidly at a numerical pad — at least ten digits. Only then did a loud click sound. Dr. Rosemont swung open the door; he gently nodded towards Dave, who returned the nod and entered. He was in a long hallway, carpeted in red, the walls painted tan; it was indistinguishable from any other office building Dave had ever been in. He blinked as his eyes got adjusted to the light. Dr. Rosemont stepped in front of him.

"This way." He led Dave down the hall and to a bank of elevators. He pressed a call button, and one pair of doors slid open. Once the two were inside, the doctor again used his key card on a sensor pad, then pressed the P1 button several times in a strange but deliberate pattern. The doors slid shut, and after a brief pause, the elevator descended, much faster than Dave had expected — first to P1, then to P2 (the last floor), then further, the floor indicators no longer even lighting up. Dave caught Dr. Rosemont take a sidelong glance at him, but he didn't react; compared to much of what he'd already seen and been through, an elevator going deeper than it was supposed to was pretty... mundane.

Finally, after a few more seconds, the elevator ground to a halt. Dave found himself holding his breath as the doors opened. Dr. Rosemont's sidelong glance returned as they stepped out. "So what do you think?"

Dave looked around him. "Um..."

The doctor chuckled. "It's not much to look at, no. But important work goes on here."

In fact, Dave got the impression that "not being much to look at" was the entire _point_ — a point well taken. This floor — which had to be even further underground than the parking areas — looked like a hospital or science lab: clean and clinical, with drab walls punctuated by framed art and linoleum floors striped with colored path indicators. Even at this early hour, there were people, most of them in lab coats (though with the occasional man or woman dressed in street clothes), milling about. None gave them more than a second glance.

"This," Dr. Rosemont explained as they went down the red line painted onto the floor, "is one of four major Agency research labs located all over the world, almost completely self sustaining and in constant communication with each other."

Dave mused on what it must have taken to build these things and still keep up secrecy. Dr. Rosemont, as if reading his thoughts, told him that it was a delicate balance, finding places that were out of reach and with a minimum of curiosity seekers, yet not in a country or region that was so politically unstable that a one day regime shift could jeopardize the entire operation. The most common compromise: look normal. No, not normal, _mundane_. Be as isolated as possible in some stronghold of civilization, yet look so much like a million other places like it that it just wouldn't occur to anyone to that anything of interest was going on within.

"It's all in the name of security," he said as they passed by an almost endless line of closed doors, most with small signs on them that Dave barely had time to read: "Dr. Andrew Whitman", "Genetics Lab", "Fire Suppression Room." "Our food is brought in through a warehouse on the surface that we own. We generate our own electricity and water, and we have our own worldwide intranet that's isolated from the Internet at large."

"Wow..." Dave breathed as they passed door after door after door. "This place is huge..."

Dr. Rosemont chuckled. "It is. We're many feet below the surface, with shielding that protects against detection from satellites or what have you."

"And you said you make your own power and water, for this entire place? How is any of this possible?"

Dr. Rosemont's eyes twinkled. "Ah, you could write an entire thesis on that. We hope to introduce our ideas and technology slowly to the rest of the world over the next few years. Once we do, I'm sure that the issue of global warming will be greatly eased, and—"

"David?" Dave turned. A black woman had just stepped out into the hall. She was lean, in her mid-thirties or so, with short curled hair, wearing a simple blue top and a colorful, flowing skirt. She moved with a confidence and a grace that he immediately admired. "Are you David?" she asked in a tremulous voice shot through with an accent he wasn't familiar with (he'd later find out it was Nigerian).

Dr. Rosemont discreetly stepped back. Dave's throat suddenly felt dry. Besides his memories drawing conclusions, there was this immediate feeling of... kinship? They couldn't be more different physically, yet he _felt_ it — felt the bond they shared, a bond that almost no one in the world could hope to replicate. "Yeah. You're Deborah...?"

She nodded, smiling a dazzling white smile as she stepped towards him. "I asked one of the guards to wake me as soon as you came. I have been waiting a long time to meet you, little brother."

Then her arms were around him and they were hugging so tightly and tears were flowing down his cheeks and onto her shoulder... He wanted to apologize until he felt the moisture soaking into his own shirt. So instead, he just held her. "I... I thought I was alone..." he said, even as he felt like he was choking. "For such a long time I thought I was the only one..."

"Me too," he heard her sob. "Me too. But no more. From now on, we'll _know_. We'll know we aren't alone." Her warm breath tickled his ear. "Welcome home."

Dave Karofsky had never felt so whole.

* * *

Not long after, Dave was shown to his room. It rather resembled his college dorm room, with its blank grey walls, beige carpet, and sparse furniture that included desk, bureau, and bed. It was a little Spartan, a little utilitarian, but he hoped to liven it up some.

After all, who knew how long he'd have to be living here?

At least he was the only occupant, even if he did still have to share a bathroom (he wondered if talents were any cleaner than the denizens of his floor at Columbia, who must've all been raised by mutant badgers in a garbage dump). Dave was given just enough time to drop off his bags before he met with Dr. Mayhew, one of the other "intake specialists." He was rotund, and jolly to an almost stereotypical degree. But there wasn't an ounce of insincerity to him, which relaxed Dave's guard (_No! Bad Dave! Keep alert! Just in case!_). He explained that most of Dave's structured time would be in testing and training. Dave could further his education if he wanted, complete with "degree" from anywhere in the world via the Agency's academic connections; apparently, this place had enough doctorates to staff an entire major university.

Dr. Mayhew took out a map (a dizzyingly large map) and pointed out various places of interest: commissary, cafeteria, gymnasium, lounges, the psychokinetics lab, etc etc etc. At one point in his explanation, he looked up, and slipped into a small smile at Dave's rather glazed look. "Don't worry; it took all of us a while to get used to it."

Then there were the rules. Most of them came down to one simple prohibition: no communicating with the outside world in _any_ way without permission. His cover story, after all, was a precariously balanced stack of lies; just one nudge could bring the whole edifice — whole sections of the entire Agency — crashing down. Never mind that rivals were already actively trying to do that (although apparently, doing so without exposing their own secrets was a tricky business); nobody there wanted a lonely talent or well-meaning family member doing it accidentally. "We can adjust your cover story, of course, but it takes time, and every contact you make is a potential threat to it. We must think of everyone here, from the other talents to the civilian workers. All their safety is at stake."

Listening to the comprehensive list of bans (which Dr. Mayhew recited from a tablet with some actual passion, as if he hadn't done it countless times before, because it was _that_ important), Dave's mind flew back to Kurt. He wondered what Brody had to do to convince his superiors not to erase Kurt's memory. Damn, if only he'd thought to ask before he left...

"... And that's about it for now." Dave snapped out of his reverie. _Dammit, focus!_ "Do you have any questions?"

Oh, God, did Dave have questions — so many, they'd probably be dribbling out for days or more. Might as well start with the ones that immediately came to mind, though. "So... how do you keep the talents here from going literally crazy with cabin fever? If they... _we_ can't leave because of our cover stories..."

Dr. Mayhew nodded, a smile creeping over his doughy features. "Did you know that we have an extensive tanning salon?"

Dave blinked. "You're kidding."

"Yes and no. No, in that we really do, but yes, in that that's obviously not all. We regularly take talents to a facility we have not too far from here. It's in the middle of a large forested area with heavy security, next to a very nice private lake. We make sure they stay for at least five days each trip, but if anyone wishes to stay longer, well, we're flexible."

It did sound nice, but... "Still sounds kind of like a prison, though. No other people around, no way to get in or out..."

Dr. Mayhew's face fell, leaving Dave feeling unreasonably guilty. "Yes, well, it's the best we can do under the circumstances..."

"I know, I know... Cover stories, limited contact... It just... It just _feels_ like there should be another way..."

"This is the simplest, the safest. There are too many others out there, watching much too closely. We walk a fine tightrope as it is; the less opportunity we have to slip, the better."

There are so many more questions whirling around in Dave's mind, but each and every one was fighting for his attention, for his voice box. "I..." He shook his head, his mouth working even though nothing was coming out.

"I understand," the doctor said, and it really did sound like he did. "It's overwhelming at first, isn't it? Believe me, you are not the first to feel that way by far, and we have a myriad of resources to help ease the transition. Here's my card. Call on the internal phone system anytime, day or night, and I'll answer."

Dave dully looked down at the small white card in his hand. It was clean, the writing and colors crisp; it snapped between his fingers. He vaguely noticed that it only listed the doctor's name and an extension: no logo, no company name, no title, no full phone number. "Yeah. Sure."

It was rude, but Dr. Mayhew seemed to take in stride. Maybe he really had seen it all before. "Any time. I mean that. But speaking of time, did you get enough rest on the trip, or should we continue your orientation later?"

"No, I'm fine." He wasn't, not by far, not in the ways that mattered, but it wasn't like not knowing about his surroundings was going to do his nerves any good.

"All right, then, I'll walk you to Dr. Hunt's office; she should be in by now. You'll want to get to know her; she's the primary researcher in charge of your testing and training. She's very eager to meet you."

_As a person or as a test subject? _Dave almost asked, but he shut himself up in time, and silently rose to shadow Dr. Mayhew out into the catacomb of hallways once more.

* * *

Dr. Eleanor Hunt (as it said on the door) was a tall, lean, olive-skinned woman of approximate middle age, with dark hair pulled back into a braid hanging from the back of her head. There was an intensity in her gaze that sent a shudder through Dave; her warm smile as Dr. Mayhew introduced them helped, but not much. It was as though her eyes were always probing, always searching, always analyzing. He almost wanted to ask Dr. Mayhew not to go, but he tamped down on that childish impulse, just watching him shut the door behind him, leaving the two of them in the office.

It was a surprisingly untidy office, books and binders stacked over almost every available surface. Three whiteboards were filled with writing he couldn't decipher, and there were three computer monitors set up both on the desk and atop the file drawers behind it. Dr. Hunt sat her desk while she waved Dave into a visitor's chair on the other side. He sat, his hands immediately setting to fidget.

"I'm glad you decided to come, David," she said; her voice was low and soft and almost musical. It reminded him of Kurt's. "You made the right decision."

"For who?" He hadn't meant to give voice to that question, but it had been running through his head ever since the moment he made his choice, so little wonder it escaped.

Dr. Hunt, for her part, barely seemed to react, but then, she didn't seem the type who _would_. "Everyone. Yourself, your friend..." God, it hadn't even occurred to him that others here would know about Kurt. How much _did_ they know? "... And yes, the Agency too. You're a special young man, and we're glad to have you."

"Special," Dave spat, as if it were an epithet. What the hell had being "special" ever given him? "Special" ripped apart his family. "Special" gave him a seemingly endless string of sleepless nights practically quaking in fear of what he and his mind could do. "Special" tore him away from college, from his friends, from the life he was finally starting to make for himself. Fuck, maybe the _only_ worthwhile thing "special" gave him was Kurt; a powerless Dave Karofsky would never have merited his compassion. What interest would he have had in a closet case bully who made his life miserable without that added telekinetic spark?

So maybe that was a second thing "special" had given him: a real means to make up for all that. That was why he was here, wasn't it?

"Yes," she said, her voice softening. "Those who work here who don't have a lot of direct contact with talents... Many of them don't understand how much having a gift like yours can cost. Dr. Rossi — our psychiatrist — has heard dozens upon dozens of stories of loss. Family, friends, jobs, dreams... I ask him to tell those stories, as much as he can without breaking privilege, to myself and the other researchers, just to remind us who we're dealing with."

"Who you're dealing with...?"

"Human beings," the doctor answered. "Who've often sacrificed so much just being who they are. Sometimes I wonder who has it worse: the ones with families who reject them for being 'freaks' or 'possessed', or the ones with loving families who have to leave them behind to come here."

Dave shook his head dumbly; emotions were squeezing at his chest, at his heart, threatening to snap him entirely. "You kind of sound like a psychiatrist yourself," was all he managed to say.

Dr. Hunt chuckled. "I do have training in that field, yes. It comes in extremely handy in devising and implementing training techniques."

"Yeah? You're going to give me control?"

"No, technically, _you_ are. The success or failure of your training depends entirely on you, after all. But yes, I did develop the regimen you're about to experience, though you'll be working mostly with my assistants."

"What about Deborah?" Dave burst out. He wasn't sure why he thought of her at that moment (though she'd been lingering in his mind ever since they reluctantly separated at their first meeting), but her name was out of his mouth before he could stop it.

Dr. Hunt smiled and nodded. "Of course. In fact, she's going to be an integral part of your training. She's already helped greatly, both as a subject and a consultant." Knowing that made Dave feel better — a lot better, in fact. _Idiot! You barely know any of these people! _But still, who said emotions were rational? "So..." She patted a manila folder on the desk next to her keyboard. "I've read your file." Dave craned his neck in curiosity, but she made no move to open the folder. "I won't be able to tell you much at this point, not until we've got hard numbers on your power, but what about it concerns you?"

"Well..." Dave cast his mind back to New York; his life there seemed so remote, in time as well as distance, even though it had been less than two days since he was last there... Going to college... Living his own life with his friends and family at his side... He swallowed down the lump in his throat. "A lot of it is with control. Which I guess is kinda obvious. But the power's been getting stronger, and I've had trouble not using it just by instinct. I'll be honest, I'm dunno how you're gonna help me with that..."

"I'm going to use an analogy you probably won't like," Dr. Hunt said.

"Okay..."

"I've found that learning to master almost any kind of power, especially on the instinctual level, is like... potty training."

There was a full half minute of silence.

"You're right," Dave rumbled with an ill-hidden smirk. "I don't really like it."

"But it's apt," Dr. Hunt replied. "When you're a child, you have accidents, especially when you're asleep. You don't know how to tell when you need to go, so sometimes you hold it so long you don't realize it until it's too late. Eventually, through practice and listening to your body, you learn what that urgency feels like, so thoroughly that you don't have to fear accidents even when you're not awake and alert. With powers, it's a similar principle. You learn to get in touch with what you feel and what it means. You learn how it acts and reacts. Eventually, with practice and patience, you'll know that part of yourself so thoroughly that you'll be able to control it on every level, so your power won't manifest itself when you're upset or asleep — just like you stopped wetting the bed."

"Huh. That was... a better analogy than I thought it'd be."

Dr. Hunt smirked. "That's a reaction I hear a lot. In much the same way, we're going to concentrate on how your power _feels_ to you: how your body reacts to it, how your mind shapes and perceives it. Having another telekinetic helping you will make that much easier. This facility is built to withstand abilities such as yours. I believe being able to unleash your true power will also do a lot of good, as will our ability to monitor its growth."

Dave's head began to buzz at the mere thought of being able to release his telekinesis without having to hold anything back. "Really? I can just... go all out?"

"We want you to, in fact."

"Wow... The guards who brought me here said that you had ways to make sure I couldn't, y'know... hurt anyone. How do you do it?"

"It's all technology. Actually, any factory making computers or MP3 players could manufacture it. But they never would, because they'd think the results would be useless. Because they don't know about people like you." She nodded towards Dave. "We've also made advances in new metallic alloys... Again, ones that most of the rest of the world would dismiss as worthless."

Dave still wasn't sure what to think of this... of these people. But what they were offering was tempting indeed: hope. Brody was right: Kurt had long blown past the limits of what he was capable of teaching, what he was capable of doing to help him keep the telekinesis from hurting someone. As hard as it was to believe at first, this truly seemed to be a place where he could learn what he needed to know, where he could _be_ a telekinetic without fear. Or maybe that was his desperation affecting his judgment. Either way, he was too deep in to back out easily; might as well go along with this to see what else he could learn — at least until he was given some reason to jump ship. But with everything he'd heard, his confidence in his ability to do that, even with his massive power, was shaken.

_No, you promised. Kurt would never forgive you if you broke your promise. He'd kill you himself, even if you were already dead. You have to keep your promise. You _have_ to._

Despite its grimness, the thought was more buoying than he'd expected.

"How long will it take?" he asked. "How long before I can... go home?"

Dr. Hunt folded her hands in front of her. "Well, that's entirely up to you. _Technically_, you can go home any time you like. But once you decide to break ties with us, that's it. And we'll have to take certain... measures to protect ourselves in that event."

Dave's heart raced. "'Measures'?"

"Yes." Dr. Hunt's eyes averted from his face for a moment. It was a more disturbing reaction than coldness or detachment would've been. "Severing ties with us also means that we wouldn't be able to help you anymore. Not with controlling your gift, not protecting you if... someone else should find out about you. We have to think about ourselves and those still committed to us first. I'm afraid that's policy." There it was again, the vague but ominous specter of "those other guys." Dave had little doubt they existed; once he found out about one such organization, there had to be more, right? And it made sense that these people would (apparently) be at the "good" end of the spectrum — which left the others more towards the _other_ end. He shuddered. "That's why we highly encourage those who do want to leave prematurely to think very carefully first. Sometimes it works out, but..." She coughed. "We usually work to make sure it doesn't come to that."

"How?"

"Mostly by being selective about who we contact in the first place. If a talent's power is under control or inherently not dangerous, we simply ask if they want to join us on a volunteer basis. If they're a potential or actual danger to themselves or others, they're usually aware of it, and usually open to joining."

Dave's ears zeroed in on that word: "usually." He wanted to ask about the _not_ "usual," but maybe now wasn't the right time.

"But to get back to your original question, it really does depend on how seriously you take your training, how well you respond to it, and whether you wish to continue even after you're done — by training to be a field agent, for example."

"What do talents usually do after they're done?"

"Return to their old lives. We provide support and a cover story for the transition, of course. I'll be honest with you: most readjust, but others... I won't deny that this process involves a lot of lying and a lot of time spent away from loved ones and life plans. Sometimes they find they can't go home again. We've had talents return to us because they couldn't go back to a life where they had to hide everything they'd discovered about themselves. That was the case with Deborah, I believe." Dave was reminded of stories he'd read about ex-cons, and their difficulty adjusting to free society after years in prison. It wasn't a pleasant comparison. "It depends so much on individual circumstances that I can't even begin to guess right now how long you'll be here or what your options are afterward. The only thing I can tell you is that if you really want to learn how to control your telekinesis, become its master instead of letting it master you, we truly are your best hope of doing so. I firmly believe that."

Just listening to her say that, with strong voice and equally strong gaze, somehow made Dave believe it too. "I hope you're right."

"We'll do our best, David. We really will."

"What exactly do you get out of all this?" Dave burst out, unable to keep a damper on his suspicions any longer, even in this minor way. "I mean, I was told you guys get money from businesses and governments and all that, but what are you getting out of us?"

"Knowledge," Dr. Hunt said simply. "We learn about powers, how they develop, how they work, and what long cherished scientific principles have to be tossed out because of them. We create technology along the way to deal with powers that could have wider implications. And sometimes, when a talent wants it, we get someone who can use their abilities to help us or our sponsors do what needs to be done. Does that make sense?"

Dave couldn't help but feel some vaguely sinister shades to the recitation, especially the last part. But perhaps that came from the certainty that if not the Agency, then _someone_ out there was most likely using a talent to rob banks or steal government secrets or kill people for money. The very thought of being forced into cruelty, forced to become someone even worse than Karofsky — forced into sabotage, destruction, murder, perhaps through someone holding his dad or Kurt hostage — formed a rock of horror in his belly. He could only nod dumbly in reply to Dr. Hunt.

"If you have more questions, we'll have plenty of time over the next weeks," she said. "I'd like to start with you as soon as possible, but I realize you'll probably need at least a few days to settle in and get used to your new surroundings. I'm going to have you check in with me daily, and we'll figure out what your needs are and how to take your training."

Dave had to clear his throat before replying. "Sounds good."

"Well, then, I'll call Dr. Mayhew and have him show you around." Dr. Hunt rose. "As I said, David, you made the right decision in trusting us. I know that must have been difficult, but I think now that we have the opportunity to demonstrate our sincerity, we'll be able to show you that your trust isn't misplaced."

Dave hoped she was right. For everyone's sake, he hoped she was right.

* * *

It was only when he had to dodge a golf cart whirring by that Dave got a sense of just how _big_ this place was. Quite a bit of the space, Dr. Mayhew said, was taken up by the equipment and machinery required to keep the base running and safely contain a variety of superhuman powers. Dave could barely keep track of everything he saw: the laboratories, the gym with indoor pool and basketball courts, three libraries, the cafeteria, even more laboratories... He was pretty sure he'd already forgotten about a few rooms on top of those.

"Here's a good place to wrap up our little tour," Dr. Mayhew said cheerfully, waving towards an open set of double doors. "One of the rec lounges." The room was wide and deep, scattered with everything from couches to pinball machines to big screen TVs to a foosball table. It was populated by a wide variety of people of widely varying ages and ethnic groups; some were dressed in lab coats, others more casually. Some were reading, some were playing games, some were chatting in low voices. It was so familiar and mundane that it was a little hard for Dave to believe that he was at a top secret hidden research base.

"So, uh..." Dave said, eyes bouncing from face to face, "are there are a lot of talents here?"

"We have exactly thirty here, not including you. I daresay that apart from the rather obvious age signifier, you probably wouldn't be able to tell who they are merely by looking at them. Ah, we're in luck; here are some of them now. You should get to know your fellow talents." Dr. Mayhew guided Dave to a far corner with beanbag chairs and an Xbox. The small group gathered there was mostly around his age — ranging from fifteen to mid twenties — apparently matching the general demographic range of talents with the Agency, according to the doctor's earlier "lecture." It made sense, given their mission; puberty was around the time powers started manifesting, and as a talent grew up, it also grew less and less likely that the Agency would feel the need to intervene in their life. Older talents were more likely to have a power that was easily hidden, or to have learned to control their power on their own... or to have already been snatched by a rival organization.

One of the women was the first to notice the two approaching; she looked up as she brushed a lock of curly red hair out of her eyes. She nudged the young Asian man sitting next to her in the side; he lowered his graphic novel. He, in turn, kicked the back of one of the beanbag chairs set up in front of the Xbox; the African-American girl sitting in it immediately hit her controller, and the game froze mid-explosion. She and the blond young man with a light beard playing with her turned in their seats.

"Everyone," Dr. Mayhew said, clapping his hands together, "this is your new, ah, colleague, David Karofsky. David, this is Brynn Cavanaugh..." He indicated the redhead. "Ray Iwamoto..." The Asian boy gave a jaunty two fingered salute. "Annette Ross..." The African-American girl waved with the hand still holding her controller. "And Cameron Esterhaus." The blonde just nodded. "I hope you'll all give David any help he requires... Show him the ropes, if you will." There were general nods of agreement among the four. "If you'll excuse me, David, I have to get back to my office. I'll talk to you later, see how you're doing?" Dave gave his own nod; Dr. Mayhew clapped him on the shoulder and hurried off.

Without the doctor's presence, Dave suddenly felt very awkward. The four stared up at him as he stuck his hands in his pockets and shuffled his feet. "Uh... Hi," he finally managed to say like a complete dork.

The blond — Cameron — grinned wryly. "I know what'll break the ice." He raised his right hand; sparks crackled between his fingertips. "Electric manipulation. I figure if I ever go into the superhero business, I'll be Dynamo or something like that."

"Teleportation," Ray said simply.

"Technopath." Annette said in a low voice, blushing slightly. "Please don't pay any attention to anyone who says I'm some kind of 'genius,' though. I hate that word."

"But you are," Brynn said. "You're probably the most useful one of us, at least around here." She rose from her seat. "Local weather manipulation. Sort of a white Storm, though I'm not nearly as powerful or as gorgeous as she is," she said with a chuckle. She held out a hand. "Nice to meet you, David."

"Call me Dave." He shook her hand warmly, then the others' in turn. It was slowly starting to seep in: these people had powers just like his. It was simultaneously terrifying and exciting. "I'm a telekinetic."

Cameron raised his eyebrows. "Oh, yeah? You're the one Deborah's been talking about for the past month?"

"I suppose. Probably."

"I'm glad," Annette said. "She's a nice lady. She was really excited about meeting you."

"Yeah, this'll be the first time we've had two talents with the same powers here in a while," Ray said. "Or so I've heard."

"Really?" Dave asked. "That sounds like it's kind of..." He hesitated, biting his lip. He wanted to keep the last word in; he'd only just met these people, and he didn't want to arouse any bad feelings. But he couldn't just leave it there either; the anticipation was already built. So he had little choice; he sighed and said, apologetically, "... Lonely."

As Dave feared, a slight pall seemed to fall over the four — not heavy, by any means, but there nonetheless. "It can be," Cameron said. "I'm the only electric guy the Agency knows about."

"Me too," Annette said.

"There's another teleporter in India," Ray said. "I've talked to him online a couple of times, but I don't know Hindi and his English isn't that good yet, so..." He shrugged.

"It's okay, Dave," Brynn said. "That's a big reason why we've stuck together. Even though we don't have the same powers, we sort of come from the same place, you know? All talents do."

"You guys seem pretty tight."

"Yeah," Brynn said, "we're kind of like a little family, I suppose."

_Am I worthy of this family?_ Dave thought. _Would I fit in?_ But it was way too early to ask that. Maybe once he knew more about the people here, he'd have a better sense of where he could fit in. He hoped it was _somewhere_; he'd had enough of feeling like he was on the outside looking in. Until then, he resolved to try to keep Deborah in his mind. Maybe that would keep him going until he figured things out.

"Ray was the first of our merry band," Cameron said, pointing his controller at the young man in question. "He helped out Brynn when she first got here. They in turn were my mentors, and we three guided little sister Annette here." He affectionately rubbed the top of the girl's head.

She giggled, slapping at Cameron's hand. "Shut up! I'm only three years younger than you!"

"Isn't that what being a little sister _means_?" Cameron teased.

"Yeah, but you treat me like I'm ten!"

"I do not! Ray, tell her I treat her like a mature and respectable human being!"

Ray snorted. "Don't drag me into this again. Bother Dave, before he gets to know you and stops being polite."

"Brynn! Ray's being mean to me!"

"So I'm the mom," Brynn said, as if she hadn't been interrupted at all. "Since the others _act like children_." She directed those last words directly at Cameron, who pouted.

Dave laughed. This easy camaraderie, the easily forgotten but always underlying knowledge that you were with people who _knew_ — no self censoring, no fear of discovery... It was making Dave almost... giddy. Even if he didn't learn how to control his power, even if he had to escape... He'd knew he'd always remember this very moment.

The first moment since the age of thirteen when he actually felt truly relaxed.

The moment didn't last long; he had business to attend to. "Uh..." Dave lowered his voice, his eyes darting about. He couldn't _see_ any cameras or listening devices, but would he even know what either looked like, _could_ look like? Then there was the fact that he was opening up to these people, expressing misgivings even though they'd just met. His instincts told him they could be trusted, but then, his instincts were for shit lately. (Or maybe it was him _ignoring_ his true instincts that got him into trouble?) Either way, no matter what was going on here, he'd have to trust _someone_, or go mad with isolation. And these people... He felt like he could, even after just a few minutes of interacting with them. That had to mean _something_, right? So he swallowed his fear (he'd had to do a lot of that these past few years) and asked his question. "What do you guys think of this place? Really? I mean, it seems kind of..."

"Too good to be true? Everyone's way too nice and compassionate and all that crap?" Cameron's easy smirk didn't _look_ like it'd changed, but there was a shade of something new to it. Something more serious.

"Yeah."

"We've wondered that too," Brynn said with her own look around to make sure no one was in earshot. "All I can tell you is that it seems like the people we work with do believe what they're saying to us. They definitely haven't mistreated us or tried to exploit what we can do... as far as we know."

"If you ever meet Victor Lagarde, he's a telepath," Ray added. "He says he can't sense anyone messing with anyone's heads here, but..." He shrugged.

"It is kind of creepy, being treated this good," Cameron said, the smirk now totally gone. "But I'm afraid to look a gift horse in the mouth, you know?"

"It is a little cynical," Brynn said, "assuming that everyone who collects talents must be evil or selfish."

"But cynical for good reason," Cameron replied, pointing a finger at her. No one denied it.

"They were going to kidnap me," Dave said. "The guy who tracked me down was afraid I was about to go out of control."

The others didn't seem surprised. "We hear rumors sometimes," Annette said. "About things like that. What they do to people who don't want to come even though they should."

"One thing I've learned in history class," Brynn said, "is that a lot of the worst events happened because someone was trying to do the right thing. So just because they're 'good' doesn't mean they can't be 'evil,' if that makes sense."

"Too much sense," Dave murmured.

"But I've heard some scary shit about who else is out there," Cameron said, clasping his hands together; Dave almost thought he could hear the popping of electricity as his palms met. "And what they do. Unless the Agency starts, like, vivisecting us, I feel _real_ lucky I ended up here."

Dave's eyes flickered from face to face. Again, he had no idea if his instincts were at all correct, but they were saying that this group seemed sincere. If so, that they confirmed that his and Kurt's concerns were valid (or at least shared) was both comforting and... not, to say the least.

"Basically," Ray said, his finger tracing unseen patterns on the cover of his graphic novel, "we're pretty sure we've got the best deal right now. Whether it's _good_, even as good as it seems, well... We haven't quite figured it out yet."

"Which may be a good thing," Brynn said thoughtfully. "I think we're all smart enough that we'd have seen through a deception by now."

"Unless it's only at the highest levels," Cameron pointed out. "We're pretty much at the bottom of the need-to-know totem pole around here, for reasons that _sound_ good, but..." He shrugged. "Me, I'm keeping my head down for now. Whatever their reasons are, they've done good by me, and I think they deserve at least that much."

Dave nodded. This was probably something he'd have to decide for himself. The thing was, he didn't at all feel foolish about his paranoia; his life so far, not to mention Kurt, had driven home what was probably one of the most important lessons of his life: when it came to being a talent, there was no such thing as "too paranoid."

"Um... Dave?" He turned to Annette. The others seemed to know what she was going to ask; he caught Brynn nodding encouragingly out of the corner of his eye. "I was thinking... We have this... thing we do when someone new joins."

"Uh oh, a hazing?" Dave asked, with enough of a laugh to reassure her he was joking.

She giggled. "No. What we do is go to one of the testing rooms and we show them our powers."

Dave raised his eyebrows. "Yeah?"

"Usually when talents get here, they don't know about any others," Ray said. "So it kind of helps us... bond, you know? I know it sounds cheesy, but..."

Dave felt himself rise before he even thought about it. "No, I... I get it." He nodded at the others. "I'd like that."

Brynn squealed, clapping her hands as she got up. "I love this part! C'mon, let's show Dave what we can do!"

"Don't mind her," Cameron drawled. "She's may be the oldest, but inside, she's just a little kid."

"I'll take that as a compliment," Brynn shot back. Then she stuck her tongue out at him.

"Sorry about this, Dave," Ray said. "We're a bunch of weirdos here."

"That's okay," Dave said with a quiet smile. "Actually, you guys are just my kind of people."

And for once, he meant it literally.

* * *

The first place the group stopped at was Annette's workshop. Her abilities didn't lend themselves to direct demonstration, but the results spoke for themselves. Dave examined the complex machinery and computer guts scattered about the tables in awe. "Holy shit, this is awesome..."

"Thanks," a blushing Annette said.

"I mean, I have no idea what any of this does, but it sure _looks_ cool."

"None of us know what any of it does," Cameron said, patting Annette's shoulder affectionately. "Only Annette and the most PhD of PhDs have the brains to understand any of this stuff."

"Right now, I'm doing some AI tinkering," Annette said quietly, looking down at the floor and shuffling her feet. "I'm also working on that laptop over there." She nodded towards a Macbook on a table to Dave's right. "I think I could triple its processing power without using any extra space in the casing. The rest of it is mostly just robotics."

"'Just'. You hear that?" Cameron laughed. "Fifteen years old, developing tech years ahead of its time, and she calls it 'just'."

"Well, it _is_ 'just' to her," Ray pointed out. "It's only us dummies that think this stuff is amazing."

"Shut up," Annette said, slapping Ray's shoulder.

"So," Cameron said to Dave, "if you're done feeling academically inferior, we've got General Testing C all to ourselves." He grinned wolfishly. "Let's rip some shit up."

General Testing C was a room — a rather large room, about the size of half a football field. The walls were solid metal, the floor dotted with what looked like training dummies made out of various materials: plastic, metal, rubber, and more. These were in various states of disrepair, from slightly dented to pitted and scarred to half missing.

"Here we are," Cameron said, spreading his arms wide as he walked backwards in front of Dave. "Talent showoff central. Perfect for unwinding after a bad day or trying to impress that gorgeous research assistant you've got an eye on."

"Even if she barely realizes you're alive," Ray snickered.

"Hey, give me time! My natural charm will get through to her eventually." He returned his attention to Dave. "If you ever need a consult on the hottest women who work here, let me know. Never let anyone tell you that brains and beauty can't mix. We've got some _unbelievable_ babes here!"

"We sure do," Brynn said with a faraway smile.

Dave laughed and shook his head. "That's okay. Women aren't my thing."

All Cameron did was raise his eyebrows. "Oh. Huh." Dave wasn't sure if he was expecting more, but considering some of the hints Brynn slipped, and the fact that they all had some kind of supernatural ability, he had a feeling that there probably wasn't a lot of homophobia about. _I just came out to a whole new group of people, and it was so... easy. Kurt would be proud. I hope._ "Hey, less competition for me. So how about we show Dave what we've got?"

Annette stepped back, leaning against the wall behind Dave as Ray and Brynn took up spots on either side of Cameron. "Why don't I go first?" Ray said. The words were barely out of his lips when he just... vanished — disappeared without a sound, save for the whooshing of air being sucked into the space he'd occupied just a moment before. Dave's jaw dropped. "Over here!" Ray's voice called out. Dave whirled to his right; Ray waved from the far opposite corner of the room. Dave had just about focused his eyes on him when he disappeared again... and reappeared a foot in front of his face, grinning like a fool.

"Gah!" Dave jumped back. "Shit, man, you almost gave me a fucking heart attack!"

Ray laughed. "Sorry, I couldn't resist." Poof, he was gone again, this time teleporting to Annette's side. She barely reacted.

Dave's heart was finally slowing to normal levels."That was... that was actually pretty cool."

Ray shrugged humbly. "I've got limits, especially when it comes to range. I seem to be able to avoid appearing inside a solid object just by instinct, but it's not exactly something I like to test out a lot."

"My turn," Brynn said. She stepped back from Cameron, her eyes lifting to the air above him. Dave followed her gaze with curiosity. "Give me a second," she said. Dave heard her breathing get deeper, saw her lips purse and her shoulder set out of the corner of his eye. It might've been his imagination, but he felt the humidity in the air rise; the air felt clammy against his skin.

Then wisps of vapor began to form above them — just a few visible streaks at first, but as more appeared, they wove together like yarn, forming a small cloud that grew and stretched with each passing second until the entire ceiling was obscured in a layer of white fluffy cotton. Dave couldn't keep back a gasp.

"I can't affect a very large area," Brynn said in a mildly strained voice, "but ever since I came here, I've been getting better. Stronger."

"Okay, Brynn," Cameron said, rubbing his hands and grinning. "Hit me with your best shot."

"You should take another step back," Annette said. Dave, a little confused, complied.

"Get ready." Brynn returned her eyes to the skies. Slowly but perceptibly, the cloud layer darkened, turning that threatening shade of black that sent Dave's pulse racing immediately. A low rumble rolled through the room. Then Dave saw it: flashes of light piercing the clouds.

"C'mon, baby!" Cameron shouted. "Come to papa!"

"Keep your shirt on," Brynn snapped. "I've almost got it."

Another rumble, and the flashes grew brighter and more frequent. Dave found himself holding his breath; Annette and Ray were watching in wide eyed anticipation as well. Finally, an almost blinding bolt crashed down from above, its jagged path zigzagging through the air directly into Cameron. He cried out as the lightning struck him — not in pain, but in excitement, in joy. Not a single hair or stitch of clothing on him was so much as singed; it was as though he'd... _absorbed_ the entire strike. "Woo! Now _that's_ the stuff!" He raised his hands, electricity arcing between them like that metal sphere Ms. Marshall brought in that one time in physics class. Cameron grinned toothily, and Dave almost thought he could see the electricity shooting through his eyes. "Now watch this, Dave!" He pointed his hands towards one of the dummies. Twin bolts discharged from his fingers, bright enough to leave afterimages in Dave's retinas. They flashed across the room and crashed into the dummy. Dave's vision took a second to recover; when it did, he could see two huge burn marks scarring the dummy's surface, even as the smell of charred plastic assaulted his nose.

"That was..." He had to swallow before he could speak again. "That was... Wow." The clouds had already dissipated, leaving only the bare metal ceiling there always was. Ray and Annette pushed themselves off the wall and joined Dave; Brynn and Cameron also approached, the latter sauntering with a shit-eating grin on his face.

"I really impressed you, huh?" he said cockily.

"Shut up!" Brynn snorted. "We _all_ amazed the pants off him, right?"

"Y-yeah. You guys are... Wow."

Cameron chuckled and slapped Dave on the back. "That's why they call us 'talents,' dude! Because we're fucking _talented_!"

"Don't mind him," Annette said dryly. "He always gets that way after lightning."

"Yeah! I'm all charged up!" He punched the air. "Woo!"

"How about you?" Brynn said quietly, turning to Dave. "Mind showing us your power?"

Dave hesitated; he wasn't sure why. Finally, he nodded. "Sure. Least I can do, right?"

"No rush," Ray said. "Powers are kind of personal, you know?"

"No, I know. Just give me a sec." Dave turned towards the dummies. "They'll fix whatever we do to those things, right?"

"Yeah," Cameron's voice said behind him.

"Okay." Dave opened his mind ever so slightly; he felt the telekinesis flow out, pooling in him, ready (begging) to be used. Sucking in a deep breath through his nostrils, he raised his hand, palm pointing towards one of the steel plated dummies. He let the power flow out of him, and...

The first sign was a rapid vibration, the dummy almost humming in its oscillations. Then came a high pitched whine, creaking and groaning as metal tore itself apart. A loud crack echoed through the room; Annette squealed and covered her ears. The dummy ripped itself out of the floor, hovering above the stump that still protruded from the floor.

Dave didn't even look over to see the others' reactions. Like peanuts or potato chips, he couldn't stop at just one. He had to do it _more_... Another dummy broke itself from its stand. Then another, and another, and another... It was almost scarily effortless.

Someone — either Cameron or Ray — whispered "Whoa" behind him, but he barely heard it, and cared even less. He smiled; the dummies bounced along the floor on their broken stumps, ten strong marching towards the group in a perfect straight line. They encircled the five talents, then, one at a time, turned towards them as if enemy soldiers facing down a cornered platoon. The dummies rapped the floor one last time and whirled around in unison, before they all toppled like dominoes, a ring of inert metal and plastic.

Only now did Dave pay any attention this companions, and— Oh, shit. They were all staring at him or at the dummies, wide eyed and speechless. But there was shocked, and there was _shocked_, and Dave had no idea which this was. He didn't even think he'd done anything that remarkable — certainly it wasn't even close to Ray's easy teleporting or Brynn's making lightning out of nothing or Annette's complex technology or the blast of electricity that surged from Cameron's hands like a thunderbolt from Zeus — but his performance definitely struck _some_ kind of chord. He found himself praying in his mind, praying that he hadn't just ruined his first potential friendships in this place before they could even get started...

"That was, um..." Brynn's breath hitched before she could continue. "That was really impressive, Dave."

"Shit, yeah," Cameron breathed in what sounded like awe. "Deborah's demonstrated hers before, but you... Fuck, you didn't even look like you worked up a sweat."

"I didn't," Dave admitted. "It's been getting really strong the past few years."

"But you're, what, eighteen, nineteen?" Ray said, his eyes still more focused on the dummies than Dave. "I thought powers were supposed to reach their maximum level before then."

"I don't know either way. All I know is that the big reason I came here is because I need to learn how to control this thing no matter how strong it gets." He looked from face to face; some of the shock was starting to subside, thank God, but his anxiety didn't subside. He had to ask; if he didn't, he'd wonder forever. "I, uh, did I... y'know... _do_ something?"

"No!" Brynn cried, perhaps a little more forcefully than she should have. "I don't know about the others, but... I was just... surprised. Deborah's the only telekinetic we know, and she's never done what you just did."

"I think she _could_," Ray said thoughtfully. "But the way you just _did it_, like it was _nothing_..."

"I thought it was cool," Annette said quietly.

Dave nodded gratefully towards her, the anxiety loosening ever so slowly into relief. "Thanks. I'm sorry if I... went over a line or something. I guess..." Dave's eyes found his shoes; old habits were hard to break. "I guess I've just spent so long feeling like a freak that—"

He never got the next words out, instead stiffening in surprise under the embrace that suddenly encircled his chest. More surprising was who the arms belonged to. "Yeah," Cameron said, his voice so low it was almost a whisper. "I know. We all know. The best thing about being in this place is that we know we aren't alone now."

Brynn was the next to press close, then Ray, and finally Annette, her arms barely getting around Dave's waist; some distant part of Dave's brain hoped that it was just her angle, and not because he was getting fat or something. "It's okay, Dave," Brynn said. "No one will ever be afraid of you here, least of all us. We'll never let you feel like a freak again. You're one of us."

_You're one of us..._ Not even coming out had felt like this, not when he was still so afraid that he was alone because of his power. Dave tried to keep the tears back, but completely failed. He wrapped his arms around Cameron and Brynn, and held them close, as if they'd disappear if he let go.

When he held onto them for a full five minutes, and they let him, Dave finally started to believe he was in the right place.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: In case it wasn't clear, I'm planning on doing BOTH of the things I considered for the end of "Push": the five years insight and the direct sequel, to follow this.**

**Hope y'all enjoy.**

**Year One: June 12  
**

The other talents jokingly called it "The Danger Room": four metal walls, one interrupted only by the reinforced door and the glass (not really glass, that would be stupid, but some material that was clear and super strong) window. On one of the other walls, a huge red and white target was helpfully painted. This target-ed wall was dented, scorched, scratched, and otherwise generally abused, not to mention decorated with graffiti in various handwritings written in marker (including such messages as "pyro wuz heah!", "This dent made by Sasha, 12/18/10", and "I have super strength and all I got was this lousy t-shirt").

"Good to go, man?" Behind the "glass" was Terrell, one of the junior researchers assigned to psychic abilities. He reminded Dave of his Columbia roommate Randy, with his generally chill attitude that hid a sharp and complex mind. A pair of Beats headphones hung around his neck; whenever he was just strolling around the facility, or doing something repetitive like data entry, they were around his ears. The common stereotype would've demanded he be listening to rap, but having gotten to know Terrell through his training and experimental assistance, he could've been listening to almost literally anything, from Dr. Dre to Yo Yo Ma to Carrie Underwood to Weird Al. Maybe sometime he'd have to ask.

It'd been five days since Dave's arrival, not nearly enough time for the whole situation to stop feeling surreal. He was slowly getting settled in, thanks in large part to Brynn and Ray and the rest of them, but when one is plucked out of a (mostly) normal life and put into a hidden underground base owned by a global "conspiracy"... Well, it's not a situation one gets used to in less than a week.

Dave set his feet and nodded. "Yeah, I'm good." This would be the first of what sounded like many, _many_ tests of great variety. Cameron had remarked just the previous day that his intake tests left him half drained of blood and feeling much like a rat at a cosmetics company. The scary part was, he sounded like he was only half joking.

"The whole wall has a piston behind it," Terrell said, flipping a switch and typing into a keyboard. "So just push on it as hard as you can for as long as you can."

"Got it."

"Okay, I'm turning on the sensors and cameras now." He pressed a few buttons. "This is Force Strength Test A," he announced into the mike, "subject: David Karofsky, talent: telekinesis, number one." He nodded towards Dave. "Whenever you're ready."

Dave closed his eyes to concentrate, to feel what was going on inside him. The power had been starting to well up ever since he stepped into the chamber, as if in anticipation of the opportunity to finally be released without care or control. Now he relaxed his mental guards, allowing it to start flowing through him. It was rather like winding up for a punch: a gathering of strength in preparation to unleash it all at once.

The telekinetic force within him was building rapidly. His mind and body started to cry out for its release, but still he held back. He wanted to make sure that his first strike was good and solid. Dave's breathing started to quicken. Some distant part of his mind wondered what Terrell was thinking and doing, what sort of data was coming in through the pads attached to his head and arms. But most of him — most of his conscious mind — was lost in the power. No, "lost" wasn't the right word, because he was still conscious, still actively controlling and directing, but it took nearly all of his mental capacity when he wanted to gather this much power at once.

"Whoa..." That was Terrell's voice, but Dave didn't ask or open his eyes. He felt like the power was infusing his entire body, his very soul, yet he wasn't afraid. He was somewhere safe now, somewhere he could embrace being the telekinetic he was without fear of discovery... Without hurting the people he loved. Kurt's face flashed into his mind, and his control shook, ever so slightly, though not nearly enough to be of concern.

It was almost time. His telekinesis was straining at his control, searching for direction, for challenge. Well, it was about to get both. Dave's eyes snapped open. The target wall was looming in front of him. He braced himself, all the while, the power was still building, building, building...

Then he let go.

Dave directed every ounce of telekinetic force he could muster into the wall, which silently slid backwards under the pressure. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Terrell typing and turning knobs and making notes, but he didn't care. All he cared about was _power_, about pushing at that goddamn wall as hard as he could...

He didn't know where inside his brain or his soul his power resided, or what exactly he was drawing on when he brought it to bear, but wherever and whatever it was, it was demanding _more, more, more... _A grimace twisted his face as he channeled all the will he could muster into that wall.

It was the first time he'd ever truly let go, the first time he'd ever released everything inside him without fear or holding back. The power was flowing out of him like a geyser, with more strength than he'd ever experienced before, but he felt oddly calm — almost at peace. This was him. This was his potential. This was his... talent. And still the telekinesis didn't stop. He'd never felt like this before; he was almost in awe at the power at his command. The thoughts, the feelings that cascaded through him... They were overwhelming.

He pushed, harder and harder and harder, because he knew he _could_, he knew there was still more left in him, he knew that if he could only get a little stronger he'd be a force unlike any in existence, unyielding, unstoppable...

He could do anything. He could break anyone. If he wanted, the whole fucking world could lay helpless at his feet.

A loud metallic groan shook the room, shook the very walls and floor. A red flashing light played on Terrell's face. "Stop!" he yelled into the mike. Dave barely heard him; in fact, something in his very soul was telling him to push _more_... Another creak, this one accompanied by a sharp snapping sound. "Dave, stop!"

The urgency in his voice, bordering on terror, pierced the veil in Dave's mind. All the dark joy, all the glorious terrible vistas opening up in his mind's eye, drained from him like a punctured balloon. Dave almost staggered, not out of fatigue (no, he could still feel the power, he could've done _more_...), but out of horror, out of revulsion. What... what had he been thinking? Where had those thoughts come from? Was... was that what he was really like? Was he some kind of power mad tyrant in waiting? Was he...

Was he a monster?

"Oh my God!" Terrell was on the edge of laughing, grabbing at a monitor and staring at it as if close to shaking it. "Oh my _God_! These fucking readings...! You broke the wall!"

"What...?" Dave finally managed to rasp.

"You broke the fucking wall! Oh my God!" he repeated as he hit a button; a printer began spitting out page after page of numbers and graphs. "Dave, you are the _man_! I've never seen anything like this!" He snatched up the papers the second they stopped printing. "I've gotta show this to Dr. Reinhardt, right now! Take a break! Hell, take ten! You _earned_ it! Over 42.5, un-fucking-believable...!" He hurried out of the room, heedless of the sallow dread on Dave's pale face.

He wanted so badly to talk to Kurt. Yet at the same time, he was glad that he wouldn't have to look his best friend in the face and tell him what he thought, what he felt.

So he found out later he was the most powerful telekinetic ever recorded by the Agency. Big fucking deal. He felt no pride, no triumph.

All he felt was a cold fear gnawing at his heart.

* * *

**Year One: June 13  
**

"... And it scared me. It _really_ fucking scared me. What if that's what I'm really like? What if I let out the power like that again, and I get to like thinking that way? What the fuck does that make me?"

Dr. Rossi didn't seem concerned (why the hell wasn't he concerned? He should be fucking _concerned_ right now!). Then again, it was hard to tell with his type. He certainly looked the stereotypical psychiatrist: greying and balding, bearded, somewhat grandfatherly, unassuming and non-threatening. He wasn't a talent, so Dave's first question to him was, "How long have you been head shrinking people like me?"

"A long time," was the reply. "Not exactly what I thought I'd be doing with my career, but what I lack in book knowledge about talents, I make up for in experience. I've seen a wide variety of talents with a wide variety of problems for the past thirty years, and quite frankly, despite their unusual origin, at heart, their psyches and dreams and fears are extremely familiar. My colleagues talk to dozens of patients just like them every day. You're not 'just' a talent; no one is a 'just'. Your abilities don't make you somehow not human, any more than your height or your sexuality completely defines who you are. They're aspects of you, combining with an array of other factors and traits to make up the whole. In a way, my job here is no different than it would be if I had my own practice in Manhattan or in your hometown of Lima. My job is to help my patients."

"Yeah, well," Dave had said quietly, "maybe you can save the world by keeping me from becoming the next great supervillain."

Dr. Rossi had raised his eyebrows. "I'm intrigued. Please continue."

And so Dave told him: told him about his past, about his acceptance of his power, about his guilt (god, so much guilt), about what he'd thought about in the Danger Room. It felt like he talked for hours, but all that time, Dr. Rossi just listened quietly, only taking the occasional note and not interrupting until Dave felt like he'd finished (no, not finished, more like drained his brain of all the thoughts that had been running around like a goddamn track and field team). He sighed, waiting as Dr. Rossi looked over his notes, and Dave's file.

"I don't know much about the scientific aspect of talents," he began, "but I've been told that these numbers here from your test are unusually high."

"Great. Yay for me. That's sort of the whole problem."

"Is it? Again, David, your abilities are just one aspect of you. You're afraid that you might be going, for lack of a better description, mad with power?"

"Yes."

"It sounds like you've never really trusted yourself — with your power or with anything else."

Dave paused for thought. Huh. "No... I guess I haven't."

"Why not?"

"Because I've already proven that I can be a really bad person." He hadn't even consciously thought of what he said before he said it, but now that it was out there, it was _true_. "I used to bully people, beat them up because I was afraid to face up to what I am. And that was just me being fucking gay. The telekinesis thing... Like I told you, I've felt it before... I just get caught up in it and how good it feels and how powerful I am, and... If I was a bully before, I could be again, only I'd be using my power to do it, and—" Dave swallowed hard. "I don't want that to happen. I'd rather die."

"You think you're a good person now?"

"Better, anyway."

"And you want to stay that way."

"Yeah."

Dr. Rossi stroked his beard. "You know the old saying that only the sane worry about being insane? I happen to believe that only good people worry about becoming bad. The very fact that you're so afraid makes me think that your fear is groundless."

"But... I just got caught up in my power. I didn't mean to think that way, so what if the next time—"

"I think we always have choices about what we think and feel — not necessarily in thinking and feeling them, but in reacting to them, in the actions we take because of them. That's what makes for good and bad people: what we _do_. I don't think it's strange at all that you had those kinds of thoughts. You're still coming into your own with your abilities, still feeling out what they are and what they mean to you. Besides, power tends to make people do things they may not otherwise have done." Dr. Rossi smiled. "Ever take a look at Washington DC?"

Dave laughed despite himself. "You know that doesn't make me feel any better, right?"

"Yet we hold our politicians accountable. We don't say, 'oh, that's just what power does to a person, it's not his fault.'" Dr. Rossi nodded at Dave's thoughtful silence. "I know they say 'power corrupts,' and maybe it does, but like all potentially corrupting influences, we aren't helpless slaves to it." The words sounded rather well-worn coming from the doctor's mouth, Dave thought, which made sense — he had probably talked to all sorts of talents with all kinds of powers. Another reminder that Dave wasn't as alone as he thought. "You said you were a bad person once. Why?"

"Like I said: because I was scared that if I wasn't a big man, I'd lose control, and people would realize I'm gay."

"So you _chose_ to be a bully. Neither your sexuality nor your power forced you to?"

_Oh_. "Geez... That makes me sound even worse when you put it that way..."

"Not at all. Everyone makes bad decisions. Everyone makes mistakes. What counts is what happens afterward: do you learn from the mistakes? Do you avoid making the bad decisions from then on? If it helps, I'll tell you that in my career working with talents, I don't think I've ever personally handled or heard of a case where a power directly drove a talent to evil, unless it actually caused outright insanity. The others—"

"You mean there _are_, like, supervillains out there? Evil talents?"

"Talents who use their abilities for their own gain at the expense of others, yes. People like that are everywhere. Anyway, they, in my experience, _chose_ to be selfish, chose to believe that they were better than everyone else, chose to hurt others and not care."

"Then why?" Dave asked, even though he had a pretty good idea.

"Pretty much the same reasons we normal people turn to crime: greed, arrogance, hatred, broken childhood, addiction... Not, as I said, _because_ they had powers — those just made it easier." Dr. Rossi gave him an appraising look. "What kind of decisions will you make?"

Dave looked down at his hands, folded in his lap. "So... If I get to like just going balls out with my power... If I start to think that I'm, like, a god or something..."

"Then that will be your decision, no different than if you decided you were better than everyone else because you were rich or had a sports car or were a trained sniper. But personally, if I had to guess how you'll decide to live your life... Well, let's just say I'm not too concerned about having to lead a rebel army against you anytime soon."

Dave laughed; was it because he found the mental image funny, or out of relief? Maybe both. Dark thoughts still lingered in the back of his mind, but somehow, they didn't seem so looming, so scary anymore. "Thanks. Um... Do you mind if I make another appointment?"

"Of course. That's what I'm here for."

Dave started to rise from his chair, but paused. "You know, now that I think about it, a lot of what you said reminded me of what Kurt's told me."

"Kurt? Ah, your friend?"

"My best friend. He didn't just help me figure out my power — he told me all the time that I was a good person, and that I was someone worthy of trust."

"Sounds like a very wise man."

Dave smiled fondly. "Yeah. He is."

* * *

**Year One: June 15  
**

"You feel it? The way it flows in you, like water?"

Dave nodded; Deborah's voice seemed to reach somewhere deep inside him. He didn't open his eyes, instead focusing on Deborah, on her instruction.

"Try to find the source, the specific point in your body your power comes from. In me, it is the base of the spine, but it may be different for you."

Dave nodded again, his eyes still closed. His mind turned inward, swimming up the flow of telekinesis, to a point in the center of his sternum. "I think... I think I have it," he said.

"Good. From now on, you must concentrate on that point. You must learn how it feels when you open yourself to your power, how it feels when you want to shut it off, how it feels when you feel the power threaten to go out of control. That center is the key to your control."

It wasn't until coming here that Dave ever thought to even find a source of the power. As far as he could tell (and he'd said as much to Kurt), it just seemed to come from such nebulous places as "his head" and "his heart". It'd taken Deborah to get him to look deeper in himself; once he did, finding that source was so embarrassingly easy that he was almost glad that Kurt wasn't there to tsk and shake his head.

"So..." Dave began, his eyes still closed as he concentrated on the power rushing inside him, pumping like blood through his veins, "what is this... center?"

Deborah was silent for a moment before answering. "To be honest... I do not know. Neither does Dr. Hunt, nor any of the other scientists." Her voice took on a thoughtful tone. "I believe it is where the soul resides, but you may think differently. Dr. Hunt certainly does. But then, if it is the soul, all of her research would be pointless, so it is natural she would hope not."

"Yeah, I can see that. My friend Kurt would probably agree with her."

There was another silence — one that struck Dave as a little odd — before Deborah said anything more. "This is a good time to take a break." Dave opened his eyes, his eyes quickly adjusting in the dimmed light. Deborah had already moved to one of the sofas lining the walls; Dave joined her in a nearby chair.

The "quiet room" was specifically set aside for such activities as meditation, yoga, and whatever "spiritual pursuits" (in Dr. Mayhew's words) talents or staff required. Painted in quiet, neutral colors and outfitted with everything from mats to a stereo system for New Age music to a small Buddhist shrine, it struck Dave as simultaneously trying too hard and completely perfect for its function. He had absolutely _no_ clue how it did that.

"I must admit, I am surprised," Deborah said, raising an eyebrow. "You are much more... advanced than I would have expected from someone who had to learn about his power alone."

"I wasn't alone," Dave said. "Not completely. I had Kurt."

"Ah. He is the one who taught you meditation?"

"Yeah. Everything I knew about my power before I came here, I learned through him."

"You trusted him that deeply?"

"Well, it wasn't like I had much of a choice. But he was worthy of my trust." Oh, God, was he. "He helped me. A lot of what you're doing with me now is similar to what I did with him. Except I'm somewhere I can really cut loose, and you get a lot deeper into stuff because you know what I'm going through."

"You are very lucky, little brother. I had to learn much on my own," Deborah said. "Completely on my own."

Dave's heart dropped. He tried to imagine the past three years as a telekinetic being like his first three: alone, afraid, no Kurt to tell him that he wasn't a dangerous freak, a monster. He shuddered; he certainly wouldn't have gone to Columbia, that was for sure. Who knew if he'd even be _here_, or if he'd be in the hands of one of those other guys he kept hearing about...

"I couldn't tell anyone about my abilities," Deborah continued. "There were those amongst my friends and family that I hoped — I knew — I could trust, but it was still too much of a risk if it somehow slipped out. I could defend myself from those who would try to exploit or kill me, of course, but my family would have also been put into danger, and I could not let that happen. Fortunately, my family lived in an isolated rural region, so I had many places in which to practice without fearing harm or discovery."

"Sounds really lonely," Dave said quietly.

"It was. I do not know how the Agency tracked me down — I do not know how they track any talent down. But they found me when I was... When was it...? Ah, yes, when I was fifteen. They offered me not only training in my powers, but a chance to continue my education — both with a quality of instruction I'd have great difficulty finding myself." Deborah smiled; it was a quiet smile, woven with nostalgia. "It was that education that provided my excuse for leaving. My cousin Joshua said that he hoped I'd never return... because he loved me so."

It took a moment for Dave to get it. "Ah," he said when he did.

"I did not know if the Agency could or would give me what they promised, but I felt the potential reward outweighed the risk. I have been here for twenty years now. This is my home. Of course, I miss my family, but if I were to ever return, and they knew what I was doing here, they'd slap me silly and demand I leave again. I have opportunities here to do more good with my power than I could ever hope for on my own, and I mean to take advantage of them as long as the Agency will let me."

The hardness and passion in Deborah's voice left little doubt in Dave's mind that she was a True Believer in this place. The realization left him somewhat uneasy. He could almost hear Kurt's voice say, "What better way to gain your trust than to plant someone _designed_ to earn it?" Maybe he was being paranoid. Maybe he was being cynical. But both sure seemed to be a smart way to approach things. Still, how long could he hold out? How long could he survive, or even just keep his sanity, with such caution? Did he even _need_ to? How long could he look at Deborah, at her openness and compassion, and keep that little part of himself that warned him that it could still be a scam?

There was a reason why his nights so far hadn't been the most restful.

"I have seen your test results so far," Deborah said, breaking into his thoughts. "I am told that your power has reached levels the doctors here have never seen before."

"How many telekinetics have they studied before?"

"Besides us? Two, I believe, in the decades since the Agency's founding."

"Then maybe I'm not that special," Dave said with a shrug. "Maybe they just haven't met enough telekinetics." And boy, was that a sentence Dave never thought he'd ever say.

"Perhaps, perhaps not," Deborah said with a small smile. "But the fact remains that you interest them."

"Only because they don't have to be me," Dave sighed, rubbing his forehead. "I've known for a long time I've been getting stronger. It'd be happening whether I was using the power or ignoring it. Training with Kurt was probably the only thing keeping me from going totally out of control. Even if neither of us knew what we were doing, it was at least forcing me to confront my power and _do_ something with it — probably delayed the inevitable long enough to get me here."

Deborah nodded. "My power fully matured when I was... seventeen, I believe? That yours is still developing is quite remarkable." She paused. "Not that that would be much of a comfort to you. I cannot imagine what hardships must have developed for you because of that."

_She really _does_ understand_... Dave fought back tears, and was actually successful. Fuck paranoia. Fuck cynicism. No matter what she was (or really was), he fully believed that she really did understand, and that alone was such a huge fucking relief that he was close to breaking down.

"That is why I owe the Agency so much," Deborah continued. "Even if not all of the doctors here understood what I had to face in my life, the other talents most certainly did. I found community here, David, and that is _so_ important..."

"To not feel alone..." Dave almost whispered.

"Exactly. I love my family, but here I've found another. A different kind, certainly, but the bonds I've made here run just as thick as blood. I've even felt it with those I just met. And you..." She smiled, her own eyes glistening with held back tears. "I call you 'little brother' because you _are_ my brother, David. I've known you for two weeks, yet I feel closer to you than some of my blood siblings."

"Me too," Dave said before he could even think of stopping himself. Despite his suspicions, it was true; the almost instinctual bond he felt with her added an exquisite level of agony to his indecision.

"Really? Then perhaps we are more in sync than I thought..." A calculating look came over her face. "Hmm."

"What?"

"I want to try something. Come." Nodding for Dave to return to the pillow on the floor in which he'd sat during his inner journey, she went to a bookshelf and drew out a thick tome on meditation. She sat back in her own old position, placing the book between them. Once she'd settled in, her gaze locked on the book; quickly, silently, it rose from the floor until it hovered at eye level. "Now," she said, "use your power on the book."

Dave knew better than to ask what she hoped would happen. Nodding a little, he reached out with his mind... and gasped. He literally fell backwards, barely managing to prop himself back up with his arms and shakily regain uprightness. "Holy shit," he breathed, eyes wide.

"Again!" Deborah commanded, her voice humming with barely suppressed excitement.

Once more, Dave did as he was told. Sure enough, there it was again. "I... I can feel you," Dave said in awe. "I can... I can actually _feel_ your power." It was as though his telekinesis had fingers, and they were literally and physically caressing hers. He could almost _see_, in his mind's eye, the bands and curves and whorls of Deborah's power, emanating like silk-woven ropes from her brain, wrapping around the book, around his own power, tangling and teasing. "Oh my god..."

"I can feel you too," Deborah said in a somewhat choked voice.

"How... how the fuck is this _possible_?"

"I do not know. Dr. Hunt told me that the Agency had never been able to study two telekinetics at once before."

"This... this is fucking unbelievable. What the hell is this?"

"I do not know that either. But perhaps all talents with a physical power can... connect like this. Feel each other's influence. Or perhaps not."

"Wh-what the hell does this mean?"

A smile cracked Deborah's lips. "I think this means that you are even more my brother than I thought, David. But you are right: we are exploring uncharted territory now. I know as little as you about what this truly is and how it works. But no matter what it is going on, I believe we have even more that we can learn from each other than probably even the doctors expected, and I am more confident than ever that you can have total control over your power."

Dave's mind was going in a hundred different directions all at once. But over the tumult in his head, over the static, the feelings of connection, of excitement, of... _rightness_, was dominant.

For the first time since he was thirteen — maybe in his entire life — there wasn't one ounce of him that felt like a freak.

* * *

**Year One: June 16**

Cameron had warned him. "You're gonna feel like a lab rat, man. Just don't let it get to you. The doctors don't really think you're a specimen, but they'll definitely make you _feel_ like one."

And goddammit, he was right.

Pretty much every physical test that could be thrown at him was — everything from MRIs to CT scans to the most thorough checkup Dave had _ever_ received in his life. Blood tests, medical history interrogations, electrodes attached to almost every inch of his body at one time or another. Tested while resting, using his telekinesis, running (because hell, why not, right?)... Dave's memories were just a series of beeping, scratching pens, poking, prodding, whirring machinery...

He was hardly doing anything, but he was fucking _exhausted_.

"So..." he asked Dr. Hunt once the tests started tapering off, "have you figured anything out?"

"Well..." She looked down at the file folder on the desk in front of her. "You don't have any signs of CTE..."

Dave snorted. "Funny."

Dr. Hunt smiled tightly. "Yes, I thought so. I'm not a fan of football. Give me a good baseball game any day. But seriously..." She flipped a page slowly; Dave wondered if she was deliberately drawing out the suspense. "You're a perfectly healthy nineteen year old. Physically, you're about as normal as I've ever seen."

"N-normal? How the fuck is that possible?"

"There's a lot about powers that we don't understand. This is the big one. Very rarely do we ever see any physical abnormalities that could explain how talents like you do what you do. There are some interesting results with your brain activity that could bear some looking into, but otherwise..."

"You have no clue how or why I'm like this." The words were surprisingly bitter.

"You're hardly alone in that sense," Dr. Hunt said. "That's why we're so glad you're here. This is just a first step, David. As much as you're going to learn from us, we're going to learn a lot from you. The more data we have, the better. Who knows — you could become the key to unlock one of the great scientific mysteries of all time."

"You can't just say 'it's magic' and be done with it?"

"Even magic — in fiction, I mean — has rules. Science is about figuring out those rules, and how far they can be stretched. We're treating this like any other natural phenomenon. There's a lot about the natural world that we _know_ exist that we don't understand either, so this isn't new territory for us. We just take it one step at a time, and it starts here, with your results." She patted the now closed file folder. "When we compare your scans and DNA with other talents all over the world, we—"

"DNA?" Dave interrupted. "You have my DNA?" Of course they would, but the realization only hit him just then.

"Yes, we do." Her voice and face softened; Dave wondered how he looked at that moment. "I know you only have our word for it, but I promise you that the information we get from you will only be used in legitimate scientific inquiry. We have a very principled and very powerful ethics committee who makes sure that the basic human rights of all of our talents are respected. You have nothing to fear — least of all from me."

She certainly seemed to believe what she was saying. But Dave couldn't help but feel uneasy for the rest of the day.

* * *

**Year One: June 20**

"What's this?" Dave turned the plastic case over in his hands, examining the shiny, unlabeled disc within.

"It's a message," Dr. Mayhew said. "From your father."

Dave's head snapped up so hard that he almost gave himself a neck cramp.

"I hope you understand why we didn't give it to you right away," Dr. Mayhew continued, "but we wanted you to have a chance to acclimate at least a little before we brought back any reminders of your old life, and—"

Dave was already on his feet and opening the door to the office. He was being really rude, he knew, but that little voice telling him so was completely drowned out in the maelstrom of his thoughts.

It took him only four minutes (four minutes too long) for him to be shut back into his room. He nearly broke the disc in half shoving it into his laptop (God, he probably would've torn the base apart, anti-power measures or no, if he had broken it).

The face that appeared on the screen seconds later was one he'd been praying he could see.

"Is this... is this on?" Paul Karofsky's image asked, looking directly at Dave in a way that sent his hands shaking. "Should I—?" he asked off-camera. "I can—? Okay." He faced Dave once more. "Hello, son. I, um... This is a little strange..." He chuckled nervously. "This whole thing is a little strange, to say the least."

Dave found himself gripping the edge of the table.

"I've been told some... things about you — things that I would never have believed, if these... these people hadn't... _demonstrated_ for me." Now that Dave looked closer, his dad was unusually pale. "They told me that you're... a telekinetic, and that you've agreed to train with them to learn how to control your... uh, powers." He shook his head. "I can't believe I'm saying any of this, much less believing it."

"You and me both," Dave muttered at the screen.

"They've told me that they need to... do something with my mind," Paul Karofsky continued. "So I don't go looking for you, or worrying when you don't come back for holidays. Honestly..." His eyes rose, then darted left and right. He took an audible inhale. "I hope you're seeing this, David, because that would mean they're telling me the truth, and the tape they showed me is genuine. I believe them, and the tape, and... I pray that I'm right to."

Again, he and his father were on the same wavelength. A recording like this could've been easily faked, coerced, or otherwise forced, and he was a little surprised that this occurred to his dad as well, given the circumstances. But, like Kurt when the Agency approached him, he must've been influenced by the very fact that they were revealing themselves instead of just doing what they wanted to.

"For what it's worth, this is me, and I'm not being influenced in any way... that I know of." Dave forced himself to remember that his father was a smart and canny man. "And I've decided to go along with what they want. After I've finished recording this, I'm going to let them change my memories. I'll fully believe that you're in Europe in an overseas study program, and cover for you during the summer and holidays." He laughed with a slight edge of hysteria. "I'm scared, David. For me, yes, but most of all, for you. I can't stand that you're dealing with this... this _incredible_ thing, and I can't help you except by forgetting you're even dealing with it.

The elder Karofsky licked his lips before continuing. "But it does explain a lot of little things I've noticed over the years. And if my guesses are right, it explains why Jack drifted so far from you since his... accident when you were younger. I swear, son, if I ever remember any of this, the first thing I'm going to do is personally kick his ass for being afraid of you, and make him remember that you are his _brother_, and to hold a twelve year old responsible for what happened to him is... is _ludicrous_."

The tears started then. One second he was fine, the next: waterworks. He wiped his nose on his sleeve, even as he wondered how even his intelligent father made the connection with Jack...

"And I want to tell you this directly, while I still can: I care as little about _this_ as I cared about your sexuality. They tell me you're one of the most powerful telekinetics they know of, but that doesn't mean a damn to me — except that it must've come from my side of the family." The only half-joking pride in his dad's voice made Dave laugh out loud, though it came out as partly a sob. "Powers or not, you're my son, and I love you, and the _only_ reason I'm agreeing to this at all instead of running to the nearest FBI field office or TV station is that they've convinced me — with arguments — that they're the best chance you have at controlling your powers." Paul seemed to be halfway addressing his words somewhere other than the camera; Dave wondered just who was present and how they were reacting at that moment. "That, and I spoke to Kurt." The very name sent a shiver through Dave. It also explained how his dad made telekinesis/Jack connection, considering that Kurt was the only one he told about what had happened. What it didn't explain is why Kurt would think to mention that to begin with... "I don't know his role in all this, but he helped calm me down, and..." Paul heaved a deep sigh. "I hope I'm doing the right thing. God, I hope I'm doing the right thing."

"Me too," Dave said to his father's picture.

"I understand why you felt you needed to keep this from me, David, but at the same time... I wish I could've helped you. I wish I could've made you feel less alone. I wish I could've told you that your powers..." Paul shook his head in a kind of wonder. "'Your powers'... I feel like an idiot just saying that, even though I've _seen_ what's possible and... I guess I'm still trying to absorb this. Anyway... I wish I could've told you that your powers don't define you. And I know it's selfish, but I wish I could've seen what you can do for myself. It must be amazing to watch..." He cleared his throat. "I shouldn't ramble too long; you know how your old man can get." Dave smiled through his tears, despite himself. "Take as long as you need, because your first priority needs to be you. I know you can do this; you've already overcome so much, I know you can master your abilities. I've always been proud of you — I just never imagined it'd be for something like _this_. Just remember: no matter what happens... I'll be right here." His father's voice grew choked. "Whenever you're ready. Waiting for you to come home..." He wiped his eyes; Dave did the same. "I love you, David. Just think about me every once in a while, because even if I don't remember what you're really doing, I'm going to be thinking about you. I..." Paul Karofsky appeared to try to continue, but instead, he simply reached over and tapped the keyboard, casting the screen into black.

Dave sniffled, wiping his eyes again (didn't he just do that? God, when was he going to stop already?!). Only when his face was reasonably dry and he could see again did he return to Dr. Mayhew's office. He was still behind his desk, waiting with perfect calm, as if there had been no interruption to their conversation at all. "Can... Can I keep the disc?"

"Of course."

Dave lost track of how many times he played the DVD over the ensuing years. Sometimes he felt better after watching it. Sometimes he felt worse. But he was always glad he had it.

* * *

**Year One: June 30**

"Uh... Mind if I ask you guys a question?"

His fellow talents looked up with mostly idle curiosity.

They were sitting at a cafeteria table; the talents tended to cluster together, depending on time of day, rather like a high school clique. Unlike a high school clique, Dave could actually see the reason and value for it; when there were so few people like you, it was a comfort to be among those who really _understood_, especially with newly arrived talents like himself. And Brynn's group was so welcoming and so easy to get along with that Dave naturally fell in with them. It already felt like they'd known each other for years.

"I don't know about the others," Ray said between mouthfuls of chowder, "but I don't mind. Shoot."

Dave inhaled, his mind running through his planned wording just to make sure it was expressing what he wanted to express. "How many of you... wanted this? To be a talent, I mean? Or even just... to be special?"

"Not me," Cameron said immediately. "If I could trade being a talent for going to college like I should be? I'd do it in a heartbeat."

"I thought you liked your power."

"I've gotten used to it. I've gotten to like how it makes me feel. I wasn't always that way." He tapped his bristled chin thoughtfully. "I wanted to major in journalism. I know I could've been the next Bob Woodward."

"You can't do that after you leave here?" Dave asked.

"I guess I could, but... Who knows how long that'll take? By the time they let me leave, I'll have lost _at least_ two years of my life. I'd be playing serious catch-up without being able to tell anyone why." Cameron shook his head. "And the stress... Who knows what that could do to my control?"

"So do you..." Dave poked at his bowl of macaroni and cheese — not because it wasn't good (in fact, the food here was surprisingly good), but because of the rapid desertion of his appetite. "Do you regret coming here?"

"Nah. It was either that or start killing people without meaning to. There wasn't another way. I just wish I didn't have to make that choice."

"Honestly?" Brynn said. "I like it. I mean, it's kind of messed up my life plan too, but it wasn't going to be big. I was gonna be an architect. But now? I feel like I really have something unique to contribute to the world. If my being here helps the Agency figure out how powers like mine work... That's huge. Sure, I could design a building that would stand for years. But here, I could change the entire course of science, and that's really exciting."

"I don't know, myself," Ray said. "It's not something I planned for, that's for sure. It was just kind of... dropped on me, and I have no idea what I want to do with it. Maybe it'll be better than if I had no powers, maybe worse. But either way, it's definitely a lot more complicated." The others around the table nodded. "I guess... I understand why someone would want simpler, you know? I mean, when I was in high school, I would've rather worried about homework or asking Megan Finger to the prom than whether this would be the day I'd lose control... Maybe disappear and never come back."

Dave nodded slowly, chewing on a roll thoughtfully. When Annette spoke, he almost jumped out of his seat; sometimes she was so quiet that he actually forgot she was there, especially with Cameron's blabbermouth. "I know I could do a lot of good, but... sometimes I wish it was up to someone else." She stirred her straw in her soda cup. "I miss my mom and dad."

"Dr. Hunt said we could leave anytime we wanted..."

"I know, but... I feel like I _need_ to stay. I'd never be able to make what I want to without the Agency's money, and... I have a duty to the whole world to use what I can do. If I just stayed home and made toy robots in my spare time, it'd be such a waste."

A duty to the whole world... Heartbreaking words coming from a fifteen year old. There was so much Dave wanted to say, but he kept his counsel.

"What about you?" Brynn's voice was a welcome break in his own thoughts. "You must be thinking about this a lot."

"I am. I guess I'm most like Cameron. There was a really long time when I just wanted to be normal. I never asked to have powers; I guess I thought it was unfair somehow." Dave shrugged. "But the last few years, I've kind of come to terms with what I am, and I'm here because I want to take responsibility for what I can do." He shook his head. "I don't want to hurt people again..." He could _feel_ the mood shift somehow at the last word. He suppressed a thrill of panic; they didn't know about the person he used to be (yet), but powers going out of control was probably a common story here.

"We get you," Ray said. "All of us here... We get you. Seriously. Like we told you, that's the best part of being here: being around people who understand."

Dave nodded, finishing his soda instead of trusting his shaky emotional state to not make him say something stupid.

"So..." Cameron popped a tater tot into his mouth (which reminded him of Mercedes, which reminded him of the first time she called him "Dave" instead of "Karofsky" — November 15, 2012, during rehearsal; he wasn't sure whether he or Kurt was more surprised, but he definitely knew who felt it more). "How much are they paying you?"

It took a moment for Dave to process the question. "Paying... me?" His memories showed him vague flashes of Dr. Mayhew saying something about a "stipend," but that was as far as it got.

"Yeah, they give us money. Trying to make up for turning our lives upside down, I guess."

"Having powers is what did that," Ray said quietly.

"Point taken. But anyway, they got sweet Swiss bank accounts for all of us..."

"I've always wanted a Swiss bank account," Brynn said with a grin. "Makes me feel _special_."

"And being able to control the weather doesn't?" Cameron asked with a smirk.

"Well, there's special, like being a talent, and then there's _special_, like being Beyonce or Angelina Jolie. Don't ask me which I'd rather be, because I don't think I can decide."

Cameron chuckled. "As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, they deposit the money in those accounts, and you can use it either to buy stuff here or when you get out. If I remember right when you got here, you should get your first statement... in a couple of weeks, I guess?"

"Huh." So there it was, Dave's fourth real paying job: being a talent. But somehow, the news didn't change anything. On the list of things he cared about, money was way, _way_ down on the list, somewhere between the lives of reality show stars and the price of imported cabbage.

It was unbelievable, how long he'd gone without caring about what was really important: other people. He lashed out because he didn't value them. He'd hurt so many... and for what? For fucking what? Because he couldn't accept himself — his sexuality or his power. It was so fucking selfish that it turned his stomach.

So if the Agency was a step in making up for all that... It was one he'd take gladly — consequences to himself be damned.

* * *

**Year One: July 1**

Dave groaned as his right shoulder screamed at him for being a dipwad. "Infirmary, infirmary..." he muttered to himself as he wended his way through the halls. He'd been here for almost a month already and he was _still_ getting used to the place and its bizarre layout.

Then again, he was still getting used to a lot of things about his life now. The tests were starting to taper off (finally!), and discussions of what he wanted to do with himself outside of the lab were forthcoming. In the meantime, he was spending a _lot_ of time in the gym. For one thing, it was better than even the one at Columbia, with the latest and greatest equipment and a heated swimming pool (an underground swimming pool... holy fuck, what was his life?). For another, it was the best place he knew to burn off the nervous energy that seemed to recharge as quickly as his telekinesis. He fucking prayed that he'd settle in sooner rather than later, but it was difficult to imagine, especially when he was still wandering the halls like a fucking lab rat in a maze...

Then there it was, the sign on the door that was otherwise like every single other door in the fucking place, right around the corner from Library B, just as he remembered: "125: INFIRMARY". "Shit, _finally_." He went inside.

It looked like any other infirmary Dave had ever seen: beds, curtains, medical equipment. Sitting at a desk was a skinny Hispanic man about Dave's age, perhaps a couple of years older, with buzz cut black hair. He was reading _Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire_, but looked up as soon as Dave entered. "Hi," he said, putting down the book and standing. "Need help?"

"Yeah. It's my shoulder. I think I wrenched it a little while I was working out."

"Sounds like something I can handle. Come on in." The man's voice had a distinct Southern twang that Dave found oddly... _cute_. Dave sat down on one of the paper-covered beds. "Now where's it sore?" His fingers poked and squeezed; Dave winced. "There, huh? Hm. Doesn't seem like it's too serious... I can fix you up in no time."

"Yeah, I've been through the routine before. I prefer ibuprofen, but if all you have is acetaminophen, that's fine too. Aspirin just does a number on my stomach..."

The man chuckled. "I don't think we need to bother with any of that. Just hold still." His hands began to rub Dave's shoulder; the gentleness and strange... intimacy of it caused a reaction in Dave that he desperately tried to tamp down with fascinated examination of the eye chart on the wall. The hands then stilled, warm against his skin. Dave was just about wondering if this was some kind of massage gimmick when he felt it: the warmth grew significantly, much too much to be natural. It was as though the man's hands were exuding some kind of... power.

_Oh._

The energy running through his shoulder was soothing — like a hot pack, but a hundred times better. He was actually disappointed when it subsided, especially when those warm hands retreated as well. The man stepped back. "How does it feel now?"

Dave experimentally rotated his arm. "Completely better," he said in wonder. He looked over at the man, who was just standing there casually, as if he hadn't performed a goddamn _miracle_... "Are you...?"

"A 'talent'?" He made air quotes around the latter word. "Yeah, I am."

"A healer, right?"

"You got it," he said with a smile as warm as his touch. "And you're the new telekinetic?"

Dave flushed. "Shit, has _everyone_ heard about me?"

"We always hear a lot about new people here," the man said with a shrug. "Especially if you're as off-the-charts powerful as some of the researchers say you are."

Dave flushed even deeper. "Yeah, well... I'm still learning how to handle it."

"Aren't we all?"

"I suppose. Anyway, thanks." He stuck out his hand. "I'm Dave."

The healer took the outstretched hand and shook firmly, though with the oddest smile on his face. He quickly found out why. "I'm Jesús."

Dave tried to stifle a laugh, instead expelling an almost raspberry-like guffaw between his lips. "Oh, shit, I'm sorry..."

"No, go ahead," Jesús said. "I've heard all the jokes a million times. A healer named Jesús. The real God must have some sense of humor, huh?"

"Yeah, it is kind of a weird coincidence..."

"Nah, no such thing as coincidence, man. I think it's all part of a higher plan. Maybe God's, maybe not. But I've seen way too much weird shit here to think it's all just natural." Jesús grinned. "Hell, _we're_ supernatural. I think there's a reason we exist."

Dave thought of the road trip, of Kurt answering this very question... God, that seemed so long ago. "What do you think that reason is?"

"That's the question, ain't it?" He returned to his desk, gesturing towards a nearby chair as he sat. Dave took the proffered seat. "Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe folks like us have always been around, but they were just real good at hidin'. But I've got a feeling we _mean_ something, you know? I don't know what, but..." He shrugged. "Maybe it's just something I tell myself so I can stay sane."

"Hey, you do what you gotta do. More power to you."

"Thanks, man," Jesús said. "So where are you from?"

"Ohio."

"Cool. I'm from Arkansas."

"Long way from home."

"So are you."

"Yeah," Dave said wistfully. "I mean, I was glad to leave — I lived in a small town, so it wasn't really a good place to grow up gay — but there are still things about it I kind of miss sometimes, you know? Mostly they're people: friends and family."

There it was, another casual outing of self, and it was _so easy_ now that it was frankly embarrassing to remember how much he'd stumbled and stuttered the first time he had to say those words out loud, and in front of only Kurt, no less. Jesús, for his part, merely nodded. "Yeah, that's how I feel about my hometown too. My mom and dad... I haven't seen them in a while. And I had to break up with my girlfriend to come here."

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay. I try not to think about what could've been, you know? Or else I'd go nuts." There was a heavy silence before Jesús spoke again. "Say, uh... I showed you mine... Mind if you showed me yours?"

"What?!" Dave turned red right down to the base of his neck.

Jesús laughed. "Your power, I mean! Shit, sorry, I didn't mean to—"

"No, it's okay. I was the fuckhead that time," Dave said with a chuckle. "But I can't do anything Deborah can't."

"Yeah, but it's still a cool power. I guess I read too many comic books when I was a kid. I watch Deborah whenever I can, but I don't get the chance too often." Jesús shrugged. "If you don't want to, it's okay."

"No, no, it's fine." Without any fanfare, _Harry Potter_ levitated into the air. It opened, and flipped through pages, finally resting where a red bookmark had been inserted.

Jesús grinned giddily. "That never gets old. _Alarte Ascendare_!"

"Huh?"

"You've never read the Harry Potter books?"

"Uh... no."

Jesús snatched the book out of the air with a faux-offended glare. "Okay, that is just _sad_. Just look." He pointed at the page open in front of him, turning the book towards Dave. "Look at this scene. Read it. Come on." Dave laughed. "Seriously. These just aren't for kids. Like here..."

"Shit, pushy, aren't you?"

Dave had absolutely no idea how he ended up spending two and a half hours in the infirmary after that, talking about Harry Potter and whatever useless and stupid shit that came up. But he did.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: After this, the sections will become monthly, so it won't take nearly as much time to cover the rest of the five years as it does the first month — I trust it's self-evident why.**

**Hope this is still going over well; I'm planning the direct sequel as we speak/write!**

**Year One:** **July 3**

"A course catalog?" Dave raised an eyebrow as he flipped through the glossy pages. "You have a course catalog?"

Dr. Mayhew nodded. "We employ some of the brightest minds on the planet in a wide variety of disciplines. Many were gracious enough to volunteer free time to teach our talents and younger staff. You'll see in the listings whether you're able to take classes in person or online through our intranet."

"And I can actually earn a degree this way? I mean, if you have to pull strings to get me a diploma, is it actually real...?"

"Honestly, the education you can get will probably be stronger than if you actually went to the universities we can give you a diploma from. Individualized instruction, David; never underestimate how much of a difference it can make."

Dave flipped through the catalog, his eyes barely making out the words as they blurred by. "And what exactly can I do with a degree from the University of Agency?"

"Anything you could do with one earned from any other college. Your career options are limited only by your desire and educational choices."

"And..." Dave braced himself. "What if I wanted my career option to do something with my power?"

"Well, you could stay on as a research assistant, as Deborah has. With the proper training, you could even become a researcher in your own right. You wouldn't be the first."

"Hm. Nah, I was never the science-y type."

"There's also field work."

"You mean like Brody?"

Dr. Mayhew frowned. "Who...? Oh! Yes, like... Brody. He's one of our most promising young operatives, actually. His success rate in finding talents and bringing them in unharmed is quite remarkable."

"How _did_ you find me, anyway?"

Dr. Mayhew cleared his throat. "Ah, well... It came about from quite a number of factors: computerized monitoring of the news, experimental sensors and satellite imagery, that sort of thing."

The vagueness of the response set off alarm bells in Dave's head. After all, if there was nothing to hide, they wouldn't have minded answering the question, right? Either way, it didn't sound like he'd get any further detail by pressing, so he decided to accept the answer for now. "So what do field agents like him do?"

"Take a look at a talent's circumstances, basically: determine what their power is, whether it poses a danger to the talent or those around them, whether they have sufficient control to hide their nature from everyone else, whether the power is negatively affecting their life, what their support systems are like, and so on."

"So... sometimes you just leave a talent alone?"

Dr. Mayhew nodded. "Sometimes, yes. Then the agent just melts back into the background as though they were never there."

"I, uh... heard there are other organizations looking for talents too...?"

"Ah. Yes..." Dr. Mayhew coughed. "Very rarely do our paths cross like that."

"But if they do...?"

"Then... a field agent needs to be able to handle that. Does... this sound like something you want to do?"

Dave hesitated. "Well... kind of. I mean, if I don't become some kind of superhero..."

Dr. Mayhew chuckled. "You'd be surprised how often that comes up. But we don't recommend that."

"... Then it sounds like about the best thing I can do with my power. I've always wanted it to mean something... _Do_ something, and if I can't help just regular people, then helping talents is probably the next best thing."

"I see. Well, that's certainly something you can look into while you're here. In the meantime, I've taken a look at your transcript at Columbia..." _Of course they'd have that_, Dave thought. "... And I don't see any reason why you can't continue on the academic path you were on there, if that's what you'd like to do. Why don't you take the catalog with you and see if there's any deviations you want to pursue."

"I'll do that." Dave rose.

"You certainly seem to be settling in well, David," Dr. Mayhew said. "We're all very glad you're here."

Dave had no reply to that. It may have been sincere, but there were still too many layers, and if he had to say that he was glad to be here too, well... Would it be a lie or not?

Like so many other questions in his life, this one was just too complex to answer simply.

* * *

**Year One: July 12**

The lake stretched out in front of him, glistening in the afternoon sun. Someone squealed, the high pitched screech cut off by a massive splash. Dave pushed his sunglasses up his nose as he leaned back in his beach chair, drinking in as much of the sun as he could.

It was the first time he'd been outside the underground base since his arrival — just about a month in all. When he heard about the scheduled "field trip," he jumped at the opportunity. Soon enough, he and the others (both staff and talents, including a few he'd never met before) were loaded into a series of trailers similar to the one that brought him there. Hours of driving later, they arrived at what Brynn called "the most beautiful place I've ever seen in my life."

It was, indeed, gorgeous: the entire region was surrounded by a lush green blanket of trees stretching as far as the eye could see. The lodge was atop a small rise, a sprawling wooden structure shaped much like a hotel, with individual rooms and a central building for meals and recreation. Below it was the sparkling blue lake, flanked by bare hills that Ray said was used for skiing and snowboarding in the winter.

Only the occasional armed guard and the equally occasional glimpse of razor wire fences spoiled the placidity.

It was remarkable how little cabin fever had set in during his underground life so far (Dr. Mayhew said it had partly to do with the lighting — some kind of fake UV technology or something), but maybe it had to do with just being overwhelmed with the changes that were buffeting him like hurricane winds. Whatever the cause, he wasn't about to let this literal breath of fresh air go to waste. He settled deeper into the chair, letting the grass underneath him tickle his feet, and watched the cool breeze ripple the water's surface, grinning as someone did a jumping dive off the pier.

"Not going swimming?" Jesús casually plopped himself down next to Dave, his white t-shirt washed out in the direct glare of day, even through Dave's sunglasses. The two had struck up a casual friendship since their first meeting, with Dave stopping by the infirmary on occasion even without injury. He told himself that the more people — the more talents — he knew at the base, the better he'd get a handle on life there (and on the organization itself), but more often than not, their conversations had exactly nothing to do with the Agency. Instead, Jesús continued on his Harry Potter crusade, while Dave did his best to steer the conversation towards less passionate topics, and usually succeeded. It seemed to Dave that each time they met, they knew deeper and deeper things about each other; Jesús actually knew now a great deal of what had happened to Dave since he discovered his power, and it was a little disturbing to realize how far they'd gotten without him noticing.

"Nah. Not exactly my thing." _Please don't ask why, please don't ask why..._ Dave tried not to think of how flabby and pale he was — even _before_ he started living underground.

Jesús shrugged. "Okay. Mind if I join you? I gotta get in my sun time when I can."

"Sure, go ahead." Heck, he was grateful enough that Jesús didn't prod that he would've granted permission for a lot, frankly...

"Thanks." And he stripped off his t-shirt.

Dave choked on his own spit. He wasn't exactly sure why; he'd seen shirtless guys up close in the locker room for years (even if most of those years were filled with deliberate averting of the eyes and careful suppression of all sorts of involuntary bodily reactions). And no offense to Jesús, but his was certainly not the hottest body Dave had ever seen — but then, he was probably spoiled from having changed around Finn Hudson, Sam Evans, Mike Chang, and Noah Puckerman. Still, while Jesús's muscles weren't nearly as developed as theirs, his thinness set what muscles he did have in sharp relief, and the way he was stretching right now, back arched and arms reaching for the warm sun that illuminated his smooth brown skin... He tried to ignore it, but Jesús was _right there_...

Dave was suddenly very glad he was wearing the sunglasses, because if Jesús saw where his eyes were going right now...

"Oh, man, that feels good." He fell backwards onto the grass, almost spreadeagled, completely ignorant of Dave's roving eyes and burning cheeks, thank God. "I try to get out as much as I can during the summer. It's nice here any time of year, but the sun, y'know?"

"Yeah," Dave managed to force out. "So, uh..." His mental filing system searched for something, _anything_ to talk about, anything to take his mind off the bare flesh just inches from his. "How long have you been with the Agency anyway?"

Jesús folded his hands behind his head, resting it on his interlaced fingers. "Almost four years now. They didn't find me until I was eighteen. I guess healers like me aren't exactly the easiest talents to find."

"Where does your family think you are?" He almost didn't ask the question, but some inner demon pushed it out — maybe because he _had_ to know he wasn't alone in his feelings, in wondering every day whether his dad was okay and what he was thinking... But fuck, did that give him the right to prod at wounds like that? "Shit, I'm sorry, ignore me, I'm an idiot..."

"No, it's okay." The softness of Jesús's voice made him wonder, but the rest of his tone sounded sincere enough, so Dave relaxed a little. "They think I'm in Seattle, doing software QA. They e-mail all the time. If we had more money, they'd be trying to visit too, so maybe that's a blessing." Jesús's chest rose and fell with his sigh.

"Yeah, it's rough. I miss my dad... my friends. Only one person knows what I'm really doing, and he—"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait!" Jesús's eyes were wide. "You mean someone knows you're actually with the Agency?"

"Yeah." It hadn't even occurred to Dave that his situation probably wouldn't be the norm. It made perfect sense, of course, but sometimes he needed a little reminding of just how lucky he was...

"And he hasn't been mindwiped or anything?"

"Not that I know of."

"And he's not a talent?"

"He's _talented_, but no."

"Shit," Jesús breathed. "That... _never_ happens. I've _never_ heard of the Agency letting someone run around knowing like that."

Dave shrugged. "Brody — the guy who found me — must've been real persuasive."

"Wow... Man, you must have really good karma."

Dave laughed, a much harsher sound than he'd intended. "Nah. If karma were real, I'd probably be dead now. Or reborn as a slug or something."

Jesús cocked his head. "Huh?"

"Honestly..." Dave sighed. All the therapy, all the counseling... and still these thoughts came to him. He wondered if he'd ever be free of them. He hadn't meant to bring them up in front of Jesús, but now that he had... Hopefully he wouldn't be too angry or freaked out. "I'm a bully."

"You? Seriously?" Jesús asked with raised eyebrows. "You seem like a nice guy to me."

"Not really. I was a fucking terror in high school. I picked on kids, pushed them around, basically assaulted them every fucking day. You know why? Because I was scared."

"Of...?"

"Of being gay. Of my power. I thought that if I was a big man, I could just ignore both. All it did was make everyone around me as miserable as I was." Dave shook his head in sadness at his own ignorance and selfishness. "I've got a lot to be ashamed of, so I guess I'm still a little sensitive to the whole karma thing."

"Okay... Well, now that I know that..." Jesús's eyes roved up and down Dave's outstretched form; Dave hoped that the sun's glare drowned out the blush he felt creeping into his face. "Nope, haven't changed my mind 'bout you."

"What...?"

"Hey, I know what you're talking about; I was bullied in high school. I can't imagine any of those fuckers having half the regret I just heard from you. And it was high school, for God's sake — it's like a whole different world." Jesús rolled himself so he was laying on his stomach, facing Dave. He could see sweat beading on Jesús's scalp, glittering in the harsh summer sun. "Look, I don't know the bully you. That guy's a million miles from here. I just know the you who's here now... The guy who's out of the closet and who's accepted his talent. And like I said, he seems like a nice guy to me."

"I, um..." Dave swallowed. "Thanks. I don't know what else to say."

Jesús smiled, his teeth gleaming. "Say you'll go hiking with me tomorrow. It's beautiful up here, but it's kind of boring without someone to talk to. Besides, I know all the best places to hang out where the guards won't bother you every ten minutes. Privacy, man; better than cash around here."

Dave shrugged, hoping his casualness passed muster. "Sure, sounds like fun." _Don't read too much into this, for fuck's sake! _After all, he already had standing racquetball games with Ray and basketball with Cameron, and they were straight. So why should he approach Jesús any differently?

"Great!" Jesús rose, tucking his t-shirt into the waistband of his shorts. "I'm gonna hit the lake. See you at dinner?"

"Yeah. See you." Dave watched him trot down to the shore, cursing himself as an insecure coward, and wondering just why he was this stressed over one new friend.

He wasn't any closer to an answer at dinner that night. It was a buffet meal; Dave's plate was heaped with roast beef, mashed potatoes, corn, and salad (though not too much; there was always more, and besides, he was still a little used to being careful _not_ to look like a fucking pig). He was already seated at a table with Ray, Brynn, Cameron, and Annette when he spotted Jesús, looking around with a plate and glass in hand. "Hey, you guys know Jesús?" he asked.

"I don't," Annette said.

"I do," Cameron replied. "He's an okay guy. Why?"

"You mind if he sits with us? We've kind of gotten to be friends."

"I don't mind," Brynn said. The others gave similar silent reactions, generally shrugs and nods.

"Thanks. Jesús!" Dave called out. Jesús whirled at the sound of his name; Dave decided he had to be mentally exaggerating how much he brightened on seeing Dave. Instead, he just waved Jesús over. Before Dave could do or say anything else, Brynn scooted over, opening a space to Dave's right; his heart unaccountably leaped as Jesús borrowed an empty chair from a nearby table and slid right next to him.

"Thanks," he said, carefully placing his plate of barbequed chicken, corn on the cob, and shrimp salad onto the table. "Cameron, right?" He pointed at the young man sitting directly opposite.

"Yep."

"And you're... Ray?"

"You got it. Just... don't tell the others why you remember me."

"Ooooh," Brynn said with a grin.

"What?" Dave asked.

"See, I think it has something to do with the time Ray had this stomach bug." She cast an arched eyebrow at a reddening Ray.

"Trust me, you do _not_ want either of us to tell that story. Not while we're still eating."

"I'll take your word for it." Brynn held out a hand; Jesús shook. "I'm Brynn, and that's Annette over there." The indicated girl waved shyly.

"Nice to meet you." There was silence as the table dug into their grub.

Everyone at the table except for Annette made a second trip to the buffet; Dave and Cameron even went for a third. "Save some for the rest of us," Brynn said with affectionate sarcasm as Cameron dug into his heaping plate. "We want to eat the rest of this week." Cameron, his mouth full of beef brisket, responded with a silent middle finger without even looking up from his food.

It wasn't until dessert (ice cream of varying flavors; everyone had something different, with Dave's choice being plain old fashioned chocolate) that any sort of conversation started up again. "So, Jesús..." Ray said, his spoon clinking against his bowl, "you play D&D?"

"I played once, back in high school. Why?"

"Well..." Ray glanced around at the rest of the table; they all nodded in approval (except for Cameron, who was too busy moaning and rubbing his stomach to respond to much). "We were going to get a game together once everyone was done eating..."

"I'm done eating..." Cameron groaned. "Forever..."

"... So did you want to join us?"

Jesús hesitated for a moment, then shrugged. "Sure, why not? You'll need to walk me through the rules, though."

"That won't be a problem. Annette's got cheat sheets and characters all ready for us."

"Really?" Jesús said, eyes twinkling. "I'm impressed."

"Yeah, well, D&D's about the only game we let Annette play with us, and only 'cause she's in charge. She'd beat the pants off us at anything else," Cameron muttered, sunken in his chair, his head resting against the edge of the back.

Brynn nodded sagely. "Monopoly, poker, Ticket to Ride... We tried Sorry once, figuring it'd help if it were just luck, but no."

"See, she doesn't need her power to be a genius," Ray said. "It just helps."

"And I've got the _perfect_ character," Annette said with a sly grin that immediately sent Dave's nerves on edge. "It's a little experimental and out there, but fun. I got the idea from a White Wolf game — old World of Darkness, of course, although I personally like the lore of both Werewolf: the Apocalypse and Forsaken for different reasons, even with some of the problematic cultural—"

"_Por favor, ya no más!_" Jesús said, laughing. "_Estás hablando un idioma diferente ahora!_"

"_Lo siento, es que a veces me emociono demasiado_," Annette replied. Jesús roared with laughter. The rest of the table merely smiled. Dave supposed he shouldn't have been surprised, but he was, a little.

"That's our little genius," Cameron said fondly.

"You guys are definitely my kind of people! I can't believe I didn't get with y'all sooner!" Jesús said, grinning. "Bring it on! Just as long as this character of yours isn't a cleric, okay?"

"Don't worry," Annette said, "you'll see."

And they did, indeed, see. Gathered in one of the lounges, Annette gave Jesús his character sheet first. The rest of the table watched as he read, in silence at first, but eventually breaking out into grins and chuckles as he continued. When he was done, he slapped the paper down on the table and said, "I choose Dave!"

"Excellent," Annette said in a passable Mr. Burns impression.

"Choose me for what?" Dave asked, suddenly nervous.

"Sit next to me."

"Huh?" Dave watched as Annette dutifully stood, opening her seat next to Jesús.

"Come over here, you'll see." Jesús waved at him as enthusiastically as a six year old summoning his bestest friend on the playground. Chuckling and shaking his head, Dave rose and took the proffered chair. Jesús shoved the character sheet in front of Dave's face; he read... and started laughing himself.

"Okay, I am _definitely_ in!"

As the game progressed, Dave was never quite sure which was more fun...

"I want to hit little stone man!" Jesús declared in as low a voice as he could muster.

"No, I want to smash goblins!" Dave countered in an equally low voice.

... Tag-team playing a two headed giant ogre...

"Smash stone man!"

"Smash goblins!"

"Stone man!"

"Goblins!"

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Cameron cried, despite his language being completely unfitting for a paladin, "smash _something_ before we take another fireball to the face!"

... Or the reactions they got from the others, in character and out.

"If I can make a suggestion, Gronk," Brynn (or perhaps Rowena, the druid) said as patiently as she could, "how about you pick up the stone man and use it to smash the goblins?"

The two heads looked at each other.

"That works."

"Smash good!"

"So double smash even better!"

The laughter at the table ended up attracting a small, ever-changing crowd of spectators over the course of the game. When the group finally took down the Mad Wizard of Arashin (Gronk appropriately having the final say with a former tree-turned-club), applause and hoots actually broke out. Annette was the first to get up and bow. She gestured for the others to do the same, and they obeyed; Cameron went so low that he almost knocked his forehead against the table.

As the group broke up for the night, Dave turned to say something to Jesús, but found himself facing empty air. The soft click of the door leading out to the patio gave an explanation. He went out that same door, and found Jesús sitting on the edge of a deck chair staring up at the sky.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" he said softly.

Dave stood at his side and looked up. A vast field of stars twinkled above them, filling almost every corner of the night sky. The moon hung low, just over the whispering treeline. No light pollution, no sound except for muffled conversation behind them and the lapping of the lake waters below. It was pleasantly cool, a slight breeze tickling Dave's hair.

It was the best night Dave could remember having in a long time.

"Yeah."

The deck chair creaked as Jesús leaned back in it, propping his feet up in front of him. "Back home, I'd drive out as far as I could as often as I could just to look at the stars. I know it ain't manly or whatever, but it always calms me down, no matter how much I'm freaking out. And I've kind of needed that, especially the last few years."

Dave sat on a nearby chair. "'Cause of your power?"

Jesús nodded, not taking his eyes off the skies. "Don't have to tell you how hard it is being a talent, even if your power's something like mine. And I didn't have anyone. Every day, I thought about telling my parents, but... I just couldn't, you know? Not just because of how they might react, but because... I didn't want them to get hurt because of me." Dave could hear Jesús's voice sharpen. "Can you imagine what could happen if someone found out what I can do? I'd probably be chained up somewhere and forced to heal a bunch of old white billionaires who'd pay anything to get better." Jesús shifted in his chair. "The funny thing is, I might agree to do it for free if I was just asked. I like being a healer. I like healing people. I feel like I fit into the big plan when I do."

"The big...?" Then Dave remembered: _I think there's a reason we exist_. "Oh. Right."

"I guess I'm lucky," Jesús continued, as if not hearing Dave's interruption. "There was a time when I had no idea what I was going to do with my life. I wanted to be a doctor — best way to use my power, right? — but my grades weren't good enough. My best shot was at a community college. My dad was even trying to see if he could find me a job at the plant where he's a foreman, but..." He sighed. "Why would I have the power to heal if I wasn't meant to _use_ it, you know?"

"That's exactly what I thought about mine," Dave said quietly.

Jesús turned towards him with a small grin. "Oh, yeah, you played superhero in New York City, didn't you? Wish I could've seen that." He turned back to the sky. "My first was Zoey."

"Hm?"

"My big sister's cat. I was fourteen. I found her in our back yard; she was bloody, torn up real bad — probably a stray dog. I was really upset, but no one else was home, so I just held onto her and prayed that she'd be okay, and... I felt it. The power... it was just... flowing into her from my hands. Her wounds were closing up right in front of my eyes, and in just a few minutes, she was walking around good as new. And hungry." He sniffled; Dave almost thought he could see Jesús's eyes shine in the moonlight. "My first human was Diego, my baby cousin. He was less than a year old, crawling all over the place, and I was the world's worst babysitter..." He inhaled, a stuttering, ragged sound. "I thought up to then that maybe I was crazy. Or that I was cursed or possessed or something. But when I healed Diego, I knew I had a gift, and I wanted... no, I _needed_ to be able to share it. I couldn't have lived with myself if I didn't. Sometimes... Sometimes I'd sneak into the hospital, find someone who was sick or injured, and heal them while they were asleep." He laughed. "That place was called the 'Hospital of Miracles' for a while."

"It's like... you have a duty," Dave said, only half to Jesús. "A duty to everyone, because you have a power that can help people, and if you did nothing..."

"That's it!" Jesús said eagerly. "That's it exactly! I knew there was a reason I liked you. Well, there's more than one, but that's one of them." He continued before Dave could question his meaning. "I don't know how powerful I am; it's not like the Agency can bring me dying people just to see if I can heal them. But... I want to do more than just sit in that infirmary and wait for people with sprained ankles or sore shoulders. They're studying me, same as you, trying to figure out what my limits are, but it's not enough, you know?"

"It's never enough."

Dave wasn't sure why Jesús turned and stared at him at that point; certainly nothing in his words would've done it, right? Was it a tone of voice? He struggled to remember what he'd sounded like, but couldn't. "You know, my power's _only_ purpose is to help people. You don't have to if you don't want to."

"What else am I gonna do with my power? Take over the world?"

"You know what I mean. It's okay to think of yourself."

Dave felt like snarking to that, maybe something like, _Thinking of myself is how I got into most of my messes in the first place._ But no — he was seeing Dr. Rossi to get out of that mindset, and he told Dave to force himself to not give in as much as he could. "The more you say it," the psychiatrist had said, "the more you believe it. It may be just one brick, but enough of them become a wall. The more you suppress that urge to put yourself down and wallow, the less work you have to do to tear down that wall."

So instead Dave said, "I know. I just..." He sighed, waving his hands, trying to express the unexpressable, put into words years of anger and fear and uncertainty of what kind of future could await a telekinetic. It was futile.

Jesús swung himself back into sitting position. "You know the best thing about this place?"

Dave laughed. "Yeah, yeah, knowing you're not alone."

"Knowing you're— Shit. I should've known I wouldn't be the first to use that line." Jesús shrugged. "It's true, though. Best thing to have when you don't know where you're going is friends who have ideas, and who'll keep you company even when you're lost and scared."

"Like you?" Dave had no idea why he said that. Why couldn't his power have been the ability to reverse time? At least it was too dark for Jesús to make out his face right now.

"Yeah," he said without an ounce of discomfort. "Like me." With that, he rose. "I'm gonna shower before I crash. See you tomorrow?"

"Tomor—? Oh, yeah, hike. Yeah. See you then."

Jesús's hand fell on Dave's shoulder and squeezed. "Good night, David."

Dave suppressed a gasp. There were _so_ many little things stabbing at his mind from those three little words: the tone, the accent, the use of his full first name (_Why _shouldn't_ he call you David? That's your name, isn't it?_)... Somehow he managed to reply, in a perfectly steady voice, "Good night, Jesús."

The door creaked open, admitting a puff of air conditioning and the unmuffled sound of voices and laughter, before it swung shut again with a click. Tomorrow would be a perfectly normal day. He and Jesús would go hiking, and he'd find that yes, those spots were as gorgeous as he'd claimed. They'd play Scrabble — with Ray winning handily without Annette to smoke them all — have dinner, and watch a _Harry Potter_ movie mini-marathon at Jesús's insistence. Dave's mind would be clear, untroubled, enjoying simple pleasures amongst peers he never dreamed he'd ever be able to meet.

Tonight, though... Tonight Dave leaned back in the deck chair, looking up at the stars, and silently asked them for answers.

And, of course, the stars remained stubbornly quiet.

* * *

**Year One: July 27**

Dave celebrated his twentieth birthday in an underground laboratory.

The others did their best to make the day as festive as possible. There were balloons, and cake, and presents. And there were movies: they actually watched _X-Men _(a favorite, it seemed, amongst talents of any ability) and _Matilda_, which amused Dave to no end even apart from their actual content. In fact, partway through _Matilda_, he began aping the title character's screen hijinks, even jokingly spinning around a hysterically laughing Brynn like Trunchbull. Though there was one film he'd learned about in the past few months, and he decided, for no particular reason, that now was the time.

"I want to watch _Carrie_."

There were a couple of nervous glances exchanged. "Are you sure...?" Piper Stewart, a "dream watcher," asked with a hint of trepidation.

"Yeah. I want to watch it."

So they saw it, and God, _now_ he understood why Kurt seemed so nervous when the junior prom came up. Dave had been _tempted_ to do what Carrie did; there was no denying that. Not to mention Carrie's mom being a religious fundamentalist (though luckily, his own mom didn't even come _close_ to Margaret White — not even in the same fucking _solar system_)... There was a point in his life when watching this movie would've raised all sorts of uncomfortable questions in him about what his power and he was capable of, but now... Now, he'd _already_ raised those questions in his mind, and more. Now, he could appreciate this movie for what it was: a horror classic that had some parallels to his own life — parallels, and that was it.

Overall, the party was nice. The cake was good, the company was pleasant (even the doctors who stopped by were amiable and in the "party mood"), the presents were thoughtful.

But...

The cake wasn't Kurt's; he made his with dark chocolate and homemade frosting that was so far beyond anything he'd ever tasted from a store that he was spoiled for life. The company was friendly and warm, but they weren't _friends_, not yet, not like the ones he'd already made over the past few years; there wasn't any shared laughter over glee club rehearsals past, no excited chatter over future dreams that each knew by heart, no smiles and mutual nods with Kurt over how far they'd both come since that fateful day junior year. The presents were very nice (books, a couple of CDs, a vest, butterscotch candy from Jesús), but they were accompanied with a lot of "I hope you like this" and "I wasn't sure what to get you, but..."; there were no gifts given with the _certainty_ that Dave would like them, no inside jokes, no practical items that Rachel would accompany with the scolding, "You really should have gotten one of these ages ago, David."

Yes, the party was... nice. He appreciated the thought everyone had put into it, and he had a great afternoon. But at the same time, he knew that they'd put that thought into it because they must've known there was no way they could replace the birthdays of the past, the life he'd lost. It was rather like a birthday party at the office: distance and awkwardness dampened the attempt at a festive mood. Despite Deborah, despite the other talents, this... this still wasn't _home_. At least not yet. Would it ever be? He had no idea.

After the wrapping paper was gathered, the movies put away, and the guests scattered back to their own lives, Dave sat in his room. He carefully stacked the presents and cards on his desk, then grabbed something and went to his bed. Sighing, he lay back against his pillow and stared at the object in his hand.

It was a framed photo — a digital print of one of Rachel's selfies. Rachel herself, of course, was most prominent in the foreground, but the others were clearly visible over her shoulder: himself, Santana, Kurt, and Adam, all grinning like idiots while the karaoke screen behind them displayed the lyrics for "Don't Stop Believing."

Dave smiled. He hummed "Happy Birthday to Me" as he rested the photo on his stomach, thinking about his friends, his dad, and hoping they were thinking of him today.

_Many miles away, Paul Karofsky glanced at the calendar, smiling wistfully. David's birthday. He should really call, give him best birthday wishes, ask where to send his present... No. That wasn't necessary. As always, he obeyed that little voice in his head without thought, without question. He resolved to send David an e-mail instead, and went on with his day._

_Many miles away, Kurt stared at the flickering flame atop the candle stuck in the chocolate cupcake he'd bought at a favorite bakery in Manhattan. His arms were folded atop the table, his chin nestled on them. He watched the flame dance, as if it would reveal all he wanted to know if he just gazed at it hard enough, long enough... With a sigh, Kurt straightened his back. "Happy birthday, Dave," he said softly. He blew out the candle._

* * *

**Year One: August 8**

"What's this?" Jesús pointed at one of the walls in Dave's room. It was dominated by a huge laminated map of Europe, dotted with pushpins connected by red yarn. Each of the pins had a Post-It scrap attached with a date.

"That?" Dave felt a little heavy as he rose from his desk chair and joined Jesús by the map. "That is the travels of Fake Dave."

"The... what?"

"My cover story is that I'm studying and backpacking through Europe. And this is where I, or Fake Dave, have been." Dave's finger tapped on one particular pushpin that had only one string of yarn tied to it. "Right now I'm in Brussels. If I remember right, 'I' just sent Kurt and Rachel a photo of me in front of Manneken Pis."

Jesús laughed. "What? Manneken Pis...?"

"Swear to God, that's what it's called."

Jesús nodded absently, examining the yarn criss-crossing the western portion of the continent. "They're really gonna keep this up for you for as long as you're here?"

"They'll probably make up something else if I'm here for a while. But yeah, that's what they said." Dave fell silent as he stared at the map. "I wish that was me."

"What?"

"I wish that was me." Dave's hand reached out, brushing against Belgium. He could _feel_ his walls, his mind, his fucking _soul_ starting to crack, but for all his apparently vast telekinetic power, he was helpless to keep himself together. "I wish I really was in Europe. I wish I really was the guy sending those texts and photos and e-mails. Because that would mean I was planning to go home..."

"Dave..." Dave didn't look at Jesús. He couldn't.

"You know the worst fucking part? The only person keeping me from going home is me. Because I know if I leave before I can control my power, I'll just hurt everyone I love, and I can't be that fucking selfish... Not again." His fist closed, rapping sharply against the map. His knuckles hurt from the impact against the wall, but he didn't pay it any attention. "Some days, like when I'm with Brynn and the others or with you, I can forget for a little while. But I still go to bed alone, and that's when I remember. That's when I think about Kurt and Dad and Rachel and the fucking _life_ I was building in New York... And it was _my life_, Jesús. Even if it was doomed to crash and burn because of my _fucking_ telekinesis, it was _still_ my life. And it was taken away from me." Hot tears were leaking through his tightly closed eyes. "I know I should be grateful that I have someone to help me with my power and that I found you guys and you all are trying so hard to make me feel at home, but I still feel so fucking lonely and I'm just a huge fucking ingrate and I'm so sorry..."

His eyes still shut tight, it was a total surprise to feel a pair of arms encircle his torso. Fingers clutched at the hair on the back of his head. "Dave..." Jesús's voice was a choked whisper. "You don't need to be sorry. It's okay." Gently, Dave felt himself being led towards his bed. They both sat down on the edge of it, Jesús's arms still tightly around him. Dave was sobbing now, feeling his tears soak into Jesús's shirt. "We've all felt that way, Dave. We've all been lonely. Hell, most of us still are, sometimes. This isn't easy, for anyone, and you've only been here for a couple of months. It'll get easier."

"R-really?" God, he was blubbering like a preschooler. Yet his shame was drowned out by his loneliness and sorrow, though both were slowly and painfully starting to recede, inch by inch, the longer Jesús held him.

"Yeah, it will. I promise," Jesús said firmly. "Like we keep telling you, you're not alone here. We've all been through what you've been through — maybe not exactly the same things, but we do understand. We've been where you are, and we can help. Just talk to me... us whenever you need to, okay?"

Dave nodded silently, but still he clung to Jesús. The two broke the embrace after long minutes, after the tears and the despair had finally subsided. Dave sniffled, wiping his face on his arm, struggling to regain some semblance of machismo. He couldn't see himself in a mirror, so he figured he probably failed miserably. "O-okay."

"No matter what you're feeling, there's someone here who can understand. If it's not Dr. Rossi, someone. We've all had to adjust to being here. You can talk to Deborah if you're feeling down about your power, and..." Jesús took a breath. "You're not even the only guy who likes guys here."

"Oh yeah? Who else?"

"Well, there's Dr. Gilmore... He's married to a dude. Then there's..." He coughed, and his voice lowered to almost a whisper. "Well, there's me..."

Dave's heart lodged in his throat. "Y-you?"

"... Yeah." His voice regained some of its strength, not to mention some of its jocularity. "Got a problem with that?"

"No!" Dave winced at the volume of the word; he lowered his voice. "I was just... surprised. I thought you said you had a girlfriend back in Arkansas."

"I did. I'm bisexual," Jesús said. "I like my girls strong and my guys..." He raised an appraising eyebrow, which instantly set Dave's face ablaze. "Well, let's just say I like 'em big."

Dave's blush deepened, and not just at the look (which went places he honestly didn't expect it to go). He was, frankly, embarrassed at not having thought of the possibility before; how many times had Santana talked his ear off about Brittany? "Oh. Sorry."

"Nah, it's okay. I just..." Jesús trailed off.

"What?"

"Never mind. Are... are we cool?"

Dave's brow furrowed. "What kind of question is that? Of course we're cool."

Jesús exhaled. "Yeah. Right. Sorry. I just... it was rough sometimes back home, y'know? That's kind of why I didn't mention it before. I've gotten a lot of shit about it from people who should know better."

"Understood. Don't sweat it."

"Thanks, man." Dave was suddenly conscious of Jesús's hand gently rubbing his back. "How're you feeling?"

"Drained. Numb. I dunno. But I think it's better than what I was feeling before."

"Any time, man. Any time."

"You don't have to—"

"I know. I want to. Besides, Brynn, Ray, and the others welcomed me into your group. If I don't repay the favor, they'll kick my ass, you know?"

"Yeah," Dave said with a wet chuckle, "especially Brynn. She'd make rain in your bedroom or something."

"It's good to have loyal friends like that."

"Like you," Dave said softly. "Thanks."

"No problem." Jesús shook Dave's shoulder gently. "How about we grab some lunch? My mom always said that food's the best way to lift yer spirits."

"Yeah." The two rose. "Sounds good. Thanks."

It did help, a little. And when Dave lay down in bed that night, the first images to dance in his head weren't of Kurt, of Lima, of Columbia, of the life he'd left behind... They were of Jesús, of Harry Potter, of movie nights with Brynn and the others, of little things throughout the month they'd known each other that took on a whole new light with the information he had now... But before he could consider _that _minefield any further, he was asleep, and his dreams, though unremembered, allowed him to wake up with a smile the next morning.

* * *

**Year One: August 19**

"Yes!" Dave crowed, raising a fist in triumph. "7 to 4!"

Deborah laughed. "Do not celebrate yet, little brother. The game is far from over." She floated the ping pong ball up off the floor. "My service," she said. "I would not get too comfortable with your lead if I were you."

"Bring it on," Karofsky sneered.

She launched the ball — but with her mind, not a paddle. With a sharp click, it bounced over the net and struck the opposite end of the table. Dave's telekinesis shot out, swatting the ball back over the net. Deborah deftly returned the volley without even raising her arms. They weren't creating paddles or walls out of their power, merely focusing on the ball and telekinetically reaching out at the right moment; Dave compared it to striking a pool ball with a cue. Dr. Hunt found the metaphor "fascinating", which Dave understood, but just thinking about the implications made his head hurt.

Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth... Deborah was completely free to move, Dave was a little hampered by the electrodes attached to him — not that movement was needed in a game of telekinetic ping pong, but he found his body leaning towards the ball instinctively, much like when he played video games. Somewhere in the back of his mind there was a free part wondering what kind of data he was giving the researchers watching. Otherwise it was back and forth, back and forth...

Then Deborah's volley put a spin on the ball, sending it to Dave's side at an awkward angle. Even as his mind sent out a burst of telekinesis, he knew he was in trouble. Indeed, the ball was far off the table, bouncing off the floor several feet to Deborah's right.

"Hah!" she cried. "See what happens when you get cocky, David?"

Dave shook his head, wiping sweat away from his brow. "Okay, okay... I guess being a high school athlete doesn't do me much good when it comes to telekinesis, does it?"

"Oh, definitely not, little brother. With telekinesis, one is better served by age and experience." Deborah gave a sly grin; Dave couldn't help but laugh.

The game ended with Dave winning, but only after three lead changes. They left the testing room joking and laughing, Dave trailing his electrodes behind him. Immediately, a harried looking assistant began detaching them from his body. Dr. Hunt was heedless of their entrance, scrolling instead through screens of data and graphs. Terrell was her other assistant; he was the one who rose to greet them.

"Hey! How'd it feel in there?"

Dave nodded. "Not bad. This was a good idea — it was a lot more fun than just pushing on stuff."

Terrell nodded back eagerly. "It was Deborah's idea, actually."

"I've consulted quite a bit with Dr. Hunt on testing protocols and other ideas," she said. "We are in uncharted waters here."

"Right, two telekinetics at once," he muttered. "How often do talents get to suggest stuff to do for others who've got the same power?"

"Such suggestions make up most of our current protocols," Dr. Hunt said suddenly. She straightened her back and turned towards them. "Everything we do has decades of experiments and experience behind it. I take a lot of pride in that record, even if I wasn't involved in most of it."

"So what did you find out today, doctor?" Deborah asked.

"Well..." Dr. Hunt's gaze drilled him straight in the eyes; his ears automatically pricked. "Your telekinesis is definitely still developing."

Terrell whistled. Dave felt chills in his chest. "I'm still getting stronger," he muttered.

Dr. Hunt nodded. "Gradually, but definitely. We registered a 1.5% baseline increase over your last test. Not necessarily probative, of course, but consistent with previous data."

Dave barely felt Deborah's gentle touch on his shoulder. "I mean... I've been training a lot here... Flexing my telekinetic muscles and all that shit..."

"Yes, but I personally don't think the two are connected in this case. Your abilities are simply getting stronger on their own."

"When will it stop?"

"Sooner rather than later, I believe. But obviously..." Dr. Hunt hesitated for a moment. "Obviously I can't say for sure. We'll just have to keep monitoring your progress, and you..."

"Yeah, I gotta keep training."

"We still have our plans and goals, David," Deborah's gentle voice said somewhere near his ear. "This changes nothing about how we should proceed."

"You could be the most powerful telekinetic on record!" Terrell said enthusiastically. "How's it feel, man?" The two women shot him a glare, but he didn't notice.

"How does it feel?" Dave thought for a moment before replying. "Like I'm trying to control a firehose when the water pressure keeps going up. Like I'm trying to land an airplane full of nuclear missiles without an engine. Like I'm the fucking Hulk, just waiting to snap." He looked dully at Dr. Hunt. "I'll see you tomorrow."

As he left the lab, he barely heard Terrell stammer, "I didn't mean..." He also barely heard the quick, light footsteps that followed him.

"You are here because you want control," Deborah said firmly. "And you'll have it, if you work. You do not need to fear your power, little brother, no matter how strong it gets. I will be here for you. The Agency will be here for you."

Dave turned to her. "Sometimes it's that last part that scares me most." He walked away; this time, Deborah had no answer for him.

* * *

**Year One: August 22**

"So this is the famous Kurt Hummel." Jesús flicked past photo after photo stored on Dave's iPad, the movie playing on the big screen TV in front of them forgotten ("This kind of sucks." "Yeah, I don't think it can even be saved by the _Mystery Science Theater_ treatment." "Fucking Michael Bay."). "What's he like?"

Dave could feel the fond smile creep onto his face. "He's a great guy. Smart, brave, compassionate... He held me together, man, he really did."

"You're so fucking lucky, Dave. I know every single talent here would've killed to have someone they could talk to about their powers like that."

Dave nodded. "Don't I know it. The thing is... sometimes I almost wish he wasn't so compassionate."

"Huh? Why?"

Dave sighed and sunk into his chair. The lounge was sparsely populated at that time of day, with only a junior researcher drinking coffee and a puttering janitor their only current company. "Because I kind of dragged him into this. I turned his life — fuck, I turned his entire _world_ upside down. I put him in harm's way, and for what? For him to worry about my sorry ass 24/7? Keeping my secret from everyone he loves? I'll always be grateful for his help, but I wish that there was a way I could've spared him all that. I never wanted to be that dependent on him. I never wanted him to feel obligated to me. It's a big reason I came here: so I could finally set him free from me."

Jesús frowned. "Did he ever tell you he resented knowing about you?"

"He didn't have to. He was tired all the time, and I could tell. He spent so much of his time helping me, and getting _nothing_ in return... I mean, it's pretty obvious, right? Who'd _want_ to be put in actual danger of being kidnapped or killed because of someone else's secret?"

Jesús stroked his chin thoughtfully for a moment, then licked his lips and said, "You know, it seems to me that he didn't have to be your friend. You would've understood if he'd just walked away, right?"

"Definitely, and he said that to me, but I still feel like he felt obligated to me and I—"

"Well, stop it." Dave laughed. "I'm serious, man, stop it! Like you said, he was risking his life helping you, but _he did it anyway_. Does that sound like something you'd do for someone if you just felt obligated to them?" There was only silence in reply. "I get it, seriously. I do. But you gotta listen to people... No, wait, you gotta listen to them and _believe_ them." Jesús took a breath. "You're _seriously_ not alone, Dave. We all know how much being a talent takes out of you. You don't know who to trust, you feel responsible for everything, you're always afraid for one reason or another... But that's what makes you so lucky: you _had_ someone who understood at least a little. Someone you could talk to. Someone who _willingly_ stayed by you. That's what... That's what friends do. They support each other, and care about each other. They—" He hesitated, then continued. "Kurt's your friend, so he cares about you. Why the hell else would he have stayed with you, when he could've gotten hurt? Guilt and obligation really don't cut it."

"I..." Dave had to catch his breath before he could try to speak again. "I guess..."

"You're talking to Dr. Rossi, right?" Dave nodded. "Bring this up, 'cause maybe if you don't believe Kurt, you'll believe him."

Dave rubbed his face with both hands. "Yeah, that's a good idea. I guess I just... old habits are hard to break, you know? I've been so afraid of myself for so long..."

"And there's another thing all of us talents can understand. If you ever asked any of the others, I'm sure you'd get stories that sound a lot like yours. I know mine has a lot in common with yours." Jesús turned to him with a gentle smile. "That's how I've fought the loneliness since I've been here: I go to the other talents. They remind me how _not_ alone I am. One of my best friends here is Vic Lagarde, and he grew up on a farm in France. You'd think we'd have nothing in common, but—"

"But you're both talents," Dave said quietly.

"Exactly! Once we got talking, it was _amazing_. It was like we'd known each other our entire lives."

"Like you were family," Dave muttered, thinking of Deborah.

"Yeah! You sound like you know this, so take advantage of us already!" Jesús paused, then snickered; Dave followed suit. "Okay, you know what I mean. Any of us would be happy to help any way we can, because we were where you are. I know it's corny, but it _does_ get better. It really does."

Dave blinked rapidly, staring at the silent explosions on the TV screen for a moment to get his head back in gear. "I will," he said hoarsely. Thank you."

"Hey, no problem. Don't be afraid to ask for help, from anyone. I'll bet half of this place needs its head shrunk. Maybe more."

"You're probably right. It's just... sometimes I think I have more baggage than most. I mean, everyone thinks of me as this awesome powerful telekinetic, but I don't feel any of that. I'm just a scared little boy who—" He blinked, actively rerouting the words that were forming on his tongue. "I mean... I'm just a guy. A guy who happens to be able to move stuff just by thinking about it, but still just a guy with major self-esteem issues..."

"Really? You?"

"See, here's the thing: I'm kind of still not sure what and who I'm supposed to be. I've spent so long pretending that I've kind of lost track of myself. Like, I _look_ like a tough guy, and I spent a long time trying to act like one, but I'm really fucking not. Maybe I'm kinda rough around the edges still, but that's about as far as that goes. And I'm a telekinetic, but I'm don't know if I'm ever going to change the world like people seem to think I will just by how powerful I am." Jesús nodded; it might have just been a casual gesture of encouragement, but it buoyed Dave more than he expected. "Then there's the gay thing..."

"What about it?"

"For a long time, the only role model I had was Kurt, and you can tell what he's like. That's why I used to think I couldn't be gay: because I didn't fit the stereotype he represented. Only now I know that I'm actually part of a whole _different_ stereotype I didn't even know existed. Not that I'm sure it matters..."

"What do you mean? Sexuality might not be the most important thing, but it _doe_s matter."

"Yeah, well, not in comparison to my powers. And does it _really_ matter if I don't actually _do_ anything with it? First of all, I'm stuck here in this base for God knows how long, and second, who the fuck is gonna date a guy like me? Besides all the telekinetic shit, I'm not exactly the biggest catch in the world, you know?"

"I—" Jesús shook his head. "Who is? Besides maybe Maggie Q or Steve Grand? Look, I'm not gonna argue against the way you think; I know that kinda thing sticks with a guy, and it'll take a lot more than me just contradicting you to get you to stop thinking that way. But are you at least _trying_ not to?"

"I... Yeah, I guess. Maybe not as hard as I should..."

"Then go hard," Jesús said with a grin. "Like you do with your power. I gotta say, it's fucking incredible that you hid all that power all that time. Most talents of your power level end up here 'cause they did something fucking _huge_ that got everybody's attention — the kinda thing that need a full scale coverup like you see in movies. You flew under the radar a lot longer than they did, and man, that's some strength you got in your soul there..."

Dave started to shake his head, but stopped himself. "If you say so." It was a lot milder than what he'd wanted to say.

"I do. 'Cause you're my friend, and I speak truth to my friends. And I'm gonna guess that Kurt's said something like it to you a lotta times." Dave nodded ruefully. "So you better start listenin' to us, or he's gonna be _real_ mad, and he don't sound like the kinda guy you wanna rile up."

Dave laughed. "No. Definitely no." He glanced over at Jesús; he was still sitting in his beanbag chair, staring in earnest, as if searching for some reason to get irritated again. Or maybe that was just his paranoia talking. "Thanks. Again. I know I've got a lot of shit in my head right now..." He laughed; there were _way_ too many unintended layers to the way he phrased that. "But I'm dealing, and you guys help. So... thanks. Again."

Jesús smiled and shrugged modestly. "What are friends for?"

There was a lot to that usually casual statement, Dave knew. But he couldn't deal with it. Not yet.

So he unmuted the TV, and let the last twenty minutes of cinematic idiocy blare at them. Neither of them minded.


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: In case you're wondering, the entries in the sections mark actual, not calendar, years.**

**Year One: September**

It was one of _those_ days — days that would've been rough up top but became nigh intolerable when you lived in a secret underground complex.

Simply put, it was restlessness. Dave had already done a full circuit of the base's perimeter — no stroll, to be sure — but the nervous energy persisted. It ran under his skin, vibrating...

His power's urges... They'd lessened considerably since entered the Agency's care, probably because of all the opportunities and requirements he had to let his telekinesis out full bore. But they hadn't gone away completely, especially at times like this... Fortunately, being here offered release much closer and safer than a New Jersey scrap yard.

It took Dave a few moments of wandering, and a quiet talk with a passing researcher, to find his way to General Testing B. He supposed he should've felt a little pathetic, not knowing his way around after all these months, but he'd been told that his spatial progress was perfectly normal. Hell, some of the top researchers still had to ask for directions occasionally.

When he arrived, the red light above the door was on. That meant another talent was already in there. Crap. Dave considered just going to one of the other testing chambers, but decided to take a peek through the observation room instead to see who it was. If it was one of his circle, maybe they wouldn't mind him slipping in beside them.

As it turned out, it was Cameron Esterhaus inside. He was staring at something beyond Dave's vantage point, his expression a totally foreign one in Dave's experience: hard, set, serious. Dave could see the electricity arcing between his hands as he slowly raised them. Dave turned away, just in time to see his shadow flash briefly on the wall, outlined sharply in that brief instant of intense light. He turned back to the observation window; Cameron's shoulders were heaving, his hands balled into fists at his sides. The potentially dangerous moment now past, Dave stepped forward and knocked on the window glass. Cameron's face jerked up; upon seeing Dave, his expression reshaped itself into the easygoing grin Dave was used to. He raised his hand in a "come on in" wave, and Dave complied.

"Hey!" Cameron said cheerfully, sounding for all the world like his usual self. "Looking to let off some steam?"

Dave nodded. "That what you're doing?"

"Yep. Not for any particular reason." The fact that Dave hadn't asked for reasons to begin with didn't escape him, but he didn't press. He knew what it was like to want to keep feelings to yourself. "Why don't we go at it together? You lift, I zap."

"Sounds like fun. Sure." Dave glanced over at the targets; they came in various shapes, from the usual bulls-eye circle to dummies similar to the ones he remembered from the first time he'd met Cameron and his friends. A few were already scorched. "How hard do you want me to make it for you?"

Cameron shrugged. "Up to you."

Dave nodded again. He turned towards the targets. A dummy ripped itself out of the floor and rose into the air. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Cameron raise his fists; he could also see sparks popping, crawling across his knuckles. Dave closed his eyes, but not quite in time; afterimages of a jagged bolt was imprinted on his retinas in the darkness. He opened his eyes again; the dummy was now blackened and smoldering.

"More," Cameron said. The charred dummy dropped to the floor, replaced by another, then a second and a third. This time, Dave let them swing lazily and randomly in the air. Cameron's eyes and hands tracked them, one at a time, as he fired electricity out of his body.

"Rough day?" Dave asked.

"Something like that," came the gritty reply.

"If you don't mind me asking... do you just control electricity, or do you _make_ it too?"

"Oh, you didn't know? I'm a goddamn human battery," Cameron said. "The longer I keep it in, the stronger it gets when I do let it out." Dave decided that he didn't need to mention how familiar that sounded. "How about you? How's your training going?"

"Okay." Dave kept his eyes towards the ground, letting his power sense the targets' movement; even without looking, he could still _feel_ the impact when one of Cameron's bolts hit true.

"What about that weird telekinetic sensing thing you and Deborah have going on?"

"Actually, that's one big reason it's 'okay.' We've been experimenting with it, and it's..." Dave shook his head. "When our powers join like that, it's like... she's able to _see_ exactly what I'm doing with my telekinesis and how much force I'm putting into it. I... don't know if I can describe how it feels, or how much it's helped."

"So, like, you two just lift stuff together?" Cameron frowned as one of his electrical blasts missed a target by a mile.

"Well, yeah... I mean, that's what telekinesis _does_. But it's more than that. Dr. Hunt and the others keep track of my power levels, study my brainwaves, see what happens when I don't use the power for a while..."

"So they study you, and Deborah is the one who's actually training you."

Dave willed one of the targets to dance away from another blast. "I guess. But that's probably better; Deborah just _knows_ me and my power, sometimes better than I do. She has, like, a hundred ideas how use it in different ways — pushing and pulling and all kinds of crap. I'm learning all kinds of shit that I can do I had no idea I was capable of. It's..."

"Scary. Scary as shit." Cameron had stopped firing; his fists were at his sides again, still tightly closed. "Just realizing what you're able to do. The kind of destruction you could dish out. Wondering who else is out there and what _they_ can do."

Dave nodded, his throat dry. "Yeah," he said. "That's it exactly." He looked up, sending the targets whirling again. "I've been talking about this with Deborah and Dr. Rossi, but I have to help myself too, you know? Seeing how much my friend Kurt sacrificed for me... I decided I never wanted to lean so hard on one person again."

"You're lucky you had one to begin with." There was a lot of envy in those words, but Dave didn't take offense — he was right, after all. "When I first found out about my power... When I was short circuiting every electronic gizmo I touched... When I fried my dog's brain like he was in the chair..." Dave could hear snapping and crackling coming from Cameron's fists. "I could've really used someone to talk to. It would've kept me from doing some incredibly stupid shit." His head was bowed, his expression horribly blank and unreadable. When he finally looked up at Dave, that old grin was back. "But hey, look at me now," he said brightly. "Now I can actually live up to being called a 'talent'." He casually raised one of his arms; Dave was able to close his eyes an instant before the bolt burst out, striking one of his levitated targets. "They saved my life." Dave opened his eyes; the grin was once again gone. "These people literally fucking saved my life," Cameron said hoarsely. "I was days away from taking one of my hunting rifles and..." He breathed in deeply through his nose, his lips shut tight. "Now I can actually say, out loud, that I'm a talent. I have a power. I can control electricity. That is _so_ fucking far from where I started... I can't even tell you."

Dave tried to imagine the young man in front of him in those dark days, but utterly failed. It was too hard, it was too much. It clashed so much with his memories of Cameron's jokes, Cameron's laughing, Cameron's laid back attitude... Dave couldn't help but feel foolish for all of his bellyaching, all of his self-pity. He had Kurt. Cameron, and most of the other talents, had nobody.

But then, even that wasn't fair, because for a long time, he didn't have anybody either. It was only by the merest slip of fate, and the almost unreasonable compassion and strength of Kurt Hummel, that he managed to have the gift of his friendship and aid fall into his lap. And even then, both he and Kurt were overwhelmed, flying blind with no one to turn to. Maybe that was why...

"Maybe that's why I'm starting to believe in this place," Dave muttered. Even now, an inner voice was warning him that he was falling into a trap, that someone could be listening in right now and smiling. But still his voice continued. "Maybe it's because I don't have much of a choice, or being naive, but... I'm starting to believe in this place. Or at least the people I've met in it. I think they really do want to help me."

Cameron nodded. "Yeah, I kind of think the same way. I mean, I still watch out for that kind of shit, but... I think the scientists really do think of me as a fucking human being, even when I didn't. If someone does try to screw us or use us... I think I'm ready for that. But until then... I'm alive because of the Agency, and that's not a little thing."

"No," Dave said, "no, it's not."

"Besides," Cameron continued, his voice considerably lighter, "here I get to be what I am. Here I get to let out those urges to just _fry_ shit." He fired off another bolt of electricity; the airborne target dodged. "You and I got that in common: the way our powers build up." His grin slipped, but just a little; enough of it still remained to comfort Dave. "If you wait long enough, the way you feel when you finally let go... It's like you're in touch with your real self, right? You get lost in the power, and... I've never done drugs, but I gotta imagine it's kind of like that. You just feel so... so..."

"So whole," Dave said softly. "Like you're doing what you were meant to do."

"Yeah." He looked up at the targets above him, and the grin returned full strength. "Like I was meant to blast those things into next week." He fired again, and missed again. "No fair!"

Dave shrugged, putting a smile on his face. "You're the one who wanted to have a workout."

"Okay, then..." The grin grew wide and wicked; Dave couldn't help but shudder. "Let me ask you a question."

"Okay..."

"How long have you and Jesús been dating?" Dave froze, as did the targets. With three quick shots, all three fell out of the air, smoldering. "Hah! I win! Woo!" He punched the sky.

"Uh..." Dave stared down at the scorched targets. "What do you—?"

"Lemme fill you in on a little secret," Cameron said with a lopsided grin. "Brynn and Annette are squealing over you two whenever they think no one's listening."

Absolutely nothing prepared Dave for the embarrassment that flowed through him like a hot tide — the junior prom, the Valentine's Day admission, his father asking him what guys he thought were hot... Nothing. He finally forced some words past his throat. "We... We're not... We're friends..."

Cameron raised an eyebrow. "Uh huh. We've all seen the way you two look at each other and how close you sit next to each other. You're friends, yeah, but what else?"

"Why are you doing this?" Some part of him winced at how whiny he sounded, but he couldn't help it.

"Because I'm being an asshole," was the cheeky reply. "Seriously, though..." And Cameron's face actually reflected his words. "He's a nice guy, and you two are great together. I think we all kind of assumed you guys were already seeing each other, 'cause you just... click, y'know? Now that I know that you aren't..." He rubbed the back of his neck. "It's a little embarrassing."

"_You're_ embarrassed?" Dave muttered.

"Okay, fine, you've got a point, but..." Cameron shrugged helplessly. "I think... We all think he's really into you, and from what we can tell, you..." He shrugged again. "You seem to be into him too."

"You guys really talk about us behind our backs?" Dave said darkly.

"No, no!" Cameron said hastily. "It's just... Me, Ray, Brynn, Annette... We've been tight for so long that we each kind of got to know how the others think. I just... I see it, in their eyes." He scratched his golden-haired chin. "Same as we can see it in your guys'."

"I see."

"Um, I'm sorry, Dave. Like I said, we all just assumed you two were—"

"No, it's okay." And it really was; in fact, it was probably for the best, because if even a fifteen year old could see it...

One good thing about Cameron's admission was that it actually confirmed that Dave wasn't going crazy: Jesús might actually be... interested in him. Or so they thought. Truth be told, Dave had been thinking — a lot — about Jesús. Not even he could long ignore how much his eyes were wandering, how he could just forget about everything he'd lost, just for a little while, when they were together. Dave still wasn't sure if he had a "type" — he still had lingering trouble at times just checking guys out — but if he did, apparently Jesús fit into it, even if he didn't share a lot of characteristics with Kurt, except maybe compassion. But he mostly ignored it: his life was complex enough being a talent, and if he was wrong, and it was just Jesús being friendly, well... The embarrassment he felt earlier would be nothing compared to that. And he wouldn't even have anywhere else to go to escape.

But that was the thing: he was stuck in this base for who knew how long. He needed to live his life as best he could, right? And if that included trying at a relationship... Hell, it might even make him a little happier.

So maybe he should confront this head on. Talk to Jesús about this. Put his feelings out there.

_"Dave, I'm so sorry. I... I really like being your friend, but..."_

Or maybe he'd just stay quiet like a fucking coward for the rest of his life.

* * *

**Year One: October**

Trust was a hard commodity to come by these days, even with Dave's easing into accepting people like Brynn and Jesús into his life. So a question occurred to him one day, and he somehow actually found the courage to ask Dr. Hunt.

"I could go nuts one day," he said quietly. Dr. Hunt, for her part, looked absolutely unfazed; her expression could actually be described as blank, with perhaps a touch of mild interest. "I could kill a whole bunch of people with my power before anyone could react."

"So could Cameron," Dr. Hunt said. "So could Ray, if he used it right."

"Yeah, so... Why the hell do you trust me?" _I sure don't trust _you_ completely._ But he didn't say that; he wasn't a complete idiot. "To be around all of you?"

Dr. Hunt was silent, her fingers closed around a pen — but not too tightly. She regarded him silently for a long moment; Dave felt like he was being judged (and God, did he know what that felt like). Finally, she said, "We don't ask just any talent to come to this particular base. They are thoroughly vetted first. I assure you, if you were the type to 'go nuts,' you wouldn't be here."

"Vetted...? How?"

"Psychologically, mostly."

"But... I never talked much to Brody. I didn't even know him for more than a year. So how...?"

"Trade secrets." Dr. Hunt smiled; Dave figured that she was trying to be reassuring, but he felt far from reassured. "And we took... other preparations."

"Like...?" His heart was pounding now.

"If I told you, they'd be useless. Even if we think you're low risk, we still need to be ready just in case. I'm sure you understand." He did, but that didn't make him feel any better. "Did you have any other questions? I'd be happy to answer as thoroughly as I'm able."

So reasonable, so open... It was so easy to forget who these people could be, how much he'd put his life into their hands... His memory replayed her earlier words; a few stood out. "You said if I weren't 'low risk,' I wouldn't be here. Where exactly would I be if...?" He couldn't finish the sentence.

Dr. Hunt sighed. "I can't give you many details, but I assure you, we do everything we can to preserve life and dignity."

Again, there it was: the self-assured rectitude, the calm virtue, the knowledge that she was speaking on behalf of an Agency that truly had the best interests of all of its talents at heart, even those who posed a risk to them and their staff.

Dave wasn't sure which would be more disturbing: if she were lying or...

If she were telling the truth.

* * *

**Year One: November**

Looking back in retrospect, Dave was a little surprised it took so long for things between him and Jesús to boil over. He chalked it up to the complexity of his life as a talent; he knew from experience that it drained so much from him, commanded so much attention, that maybe the only surprise was that he got to be with someone at all.

It went down with all the suddenness and drama of an MTV teen soap opera. It would've had to be sudden, considering that Dave was bound and determined to keep his head down until he got an unmistakable signal (or the sun exploded, whichever came first). He and Jesús were alone in the infirmary; the latter was telling the former about all the denizens of the lab he knew of, including the juicy gossip (which even in a hidden lair owned by a global conspiracy was apparently pretty soap-ish). Jesús had just finished a story about Drs. Collins and Williams and the time they accidentally turned on an observation camera while they were making out when he burst out with the question.

"Can I kiss you?"

Dave immediately felt shock, mixed with panic, welling up within him. "What?!"

Jesús immediately turned white, then red, but somehow, he spoke again. "I want to kiss you." He scooted in his chair towards Dave, until the two were touching knees; the accidental, casual content sent jolts down his spine.

"Why?" The word slipped out before Dave could stop it.

Jesús's voice dropped to a hoarse whisper. "Because you're really fucking hot."

"What?" _Shit, Karofsky, stop sounding like a fucking moron! _It didn't help; it was as though there was a calm, rational part of him watching this whole train wreck of a scene, screaming at the rest of him to snap out of it for God's fucking sake, but the numb, paralyzed part could do nothing but spit out monosyllabic words like an idiot.

Jesús licked his lips nervously and pressed on. "I'm gonna be honest here: I'm really attracted to you. Have been since the first time we met. 'Cause you're hot. Like I said." Dave tried to avert his eyes, but Jesús laid gentle hands on each of his cheeks and forced their eyes back into contact. "You are. You're so _so_ fucking hot and I couldn't stand watching you think you're not. I hope I didn't fuck things up between us..."

Dave couldn't help but think back to a conversation he and Santana had had back in New York:

_"... And I fucking swear, if I see Kurt dangle himself in front of you one more time..."_

_"He's not 'dangling himself in front of me,' San. We already talked over everything like rational human beings."_

_"Yeah, right. I know and you know that love is sure the fuck not 'rational.' And you're still in love with him; don't deny that." A pause. "Yeah, I thought so. Maybe you can just go on with the way things are, but trust me: love fucks up friendships every single time..."_

Dave often thought Santana was too cynical for her own good. He hoped to God this was one of those times.

"... Because you've been a good friend to me. But I felt like we've been getting along really well these past month and I thought I felt... something going on between us, and I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep until I at least figured out if you felt the same way about me and..." The words were tumbling out one after another in an unbroken line; he finally took a breath. "I... probably didn't choose the best way."

God, that Southern accent... It fucking _did _things to Dave. "I— uh..." he said like a complete moron.

"Shit. Forget it. I fucked up, I—" Jesús rose; the panic rose in Dave tenfold.

"Wait!" Dave's hand shot out, grabbing Jesús's before he could even think about it. All the air in the room seemed to stop at that moment; both of their eyes flickered down to their joined hands before returning to their faces. Dave wondered if he was as red as he felt, and as Jesús looked. "Can you... Can you give me a second?"

"S-sure." They both sat, but somehow, their hands remained joined. "Uh..." Jesús nodded towards their hands.

"What? I kinda..." A tentative, crooked smile grew on Dave's face. "It kinda feels good."

"R-really?"

"Yeah. I just... It was kind of sudden, you know? I was just surprised."

Jesús's face fell. "Then that means...?"

"No, it doesn't mean that I don't or can't like you _that way_," Dave said. God, it felt like he was riding a tricycle through a war zone... Was this how Kurt felt trying to navigate their weird friendship, with all the _feelings_ and shit? No wonder Santana was so cynical. "I just meant what I said. I was... surprised."

"So...?"

Indeed, that was the question, wasn't it? Did he like Jesús? Of course. Was Jesús an attractive man? Sure. Did he _like_ him? Maybe. Possibly. He hadn't considered it before; he was just so caught up in getting settled and learning about his power and connecting with other talents... It just never _occurred_ to him that he could possibly find someone to care about like that here.

But now that it had... What was his answer?

"Dave?" Jesús sounded nervous, and Dave's first impulse was to say something, _anything_, to ease his mind. God, maybe _that_ was the answer?

Maybe there was a way to find out. Maybe it all came down to just letting go, letting his heart speak for him instead of his brain. He knew he'd tried that once, on a Valentine's Day — and just look at how _that_ turned out — but if he wanted to get to the truth of what he was feeling... Well, if nothing else, that Valentine's Day did indeed truly reveal his feelings. So...

"Ask me again," Dave said.

"What?"

"Ask what you asked me before again. I'll answer the first thing that comes into my head."

Jesús raised an eyebrow. "Okay...?"

"Please. Trust me on this."

"All right, then." Jesús's hand gently squeezed; Dave wasn't sure which of them was trembling. "Can I kiss you?"

"Yes." The word came out of Dave in a breathy gasp before he could even think. "God, yes."

Dave hadn't had much practice kissing — not since Kurt and the locker room, and _that_ moment had so much baggage it was practically a major airline. Feeling Jesús's lips against his, soft and gentle and caring... Dave thought he could almost feel Jesús's power through the kiss, warming his entire body.

He felt himself reach up and grab Jesús's forearms, the fine hairs tickling his fingertips. He felt himself deepening the kiss, daring to explore with his tongue in a way he'd only read about and seen in movies (both the clean and the... not). Jesús let out a low, approving hum. When they finally paused for air, their noses just millimeters away from each other... it was as though a dam burst. Their faces pressed against each other again, and they were kissing and kissing and kissing, so hard and so deep that Dave felt like his lips were being bruised.

But he still didn't want to stop.

Hands began to roam. Dave's was first, sliding down Jesús's back. Jesús followed suit, caressing Dave's cheeks, then his chest. Dave was the first to touch bare flesh, when his fingers found Jesús's sides under his shirt, near his waist. Jesús gasped softly; Dave froze. "I... Did I...?"

Jesús shook his head. "No, but I..." Dave could hear him swallow. "I want you, Dave," he said in a low voice. "Have for a while now. If you're not ready, I understand, and I'll stop. But I really fucking want you, so if you _are_ ready, and if you want me..."

"Fuck, yes." Dave wrapped his arm around Jesús's waist and practically pulled him out of the infirmary. The hallway was empty, thank God; it took all of his willpower not to make out with Jesús the entire way to his room. As it was, the instant they were inside, and the door was closed behind them, hands were reaching lower, plucking at buttons and pulling zippers. For the first time in months, Dave's fear and worry and loneliness drained away completely; he was too caught up in feeling and touching and oh my _God_ does that feel good...

From there, there was a lot of awkward fumbling, a lot of groping, a lot of deep, tongue-filled kissing and a lot of moaning and grunting and thrusting. Actually being touched like _that_ by a man... It was so far beyond anything Dave had ever experienced that he was honestly shocked he lasted as long as he did. It was heated and passionate, yes, but Jesús was thoughtful and gentle and patient... Dave counted himself lucky that he at least didn't "finish" _too_ long before his partner; that would've been humiliating. When it was all over, they lay in Dave's bed, holding their naked bodies tight against each other, sticky with sweat and... the obvious.

"Shit..." Dave breathed, resting his forehead against Jesús's.

"Yeah..." Jesús panted, his fingers interlacing with Dave's.

"I, uh... I hope I did... okay."

Jesús laughed. "I was going to say the same thing. Didn't get a lot of chances to be with guys back in Arkansas, you know? That was... You were my first time with a man."

"No shit? You were my first too. I guess I had it better in New York, but I just never... I had a lot of other things to think about."

"I'll bet you did. But I think... we both did just fine." He smiled through half-lidded eyes.

Dave almost thought he could feel Jesús's heartbeat through his own chest. A wild chuckle escaped from deep within him. "I'm sorry, this is just a little weird... My whole life, I mean. I'm living in a top secret lab, I just had sex for the first time with a healer named Jesús, and oh yeah, I'm a fucking telekinetic. It's not what I expected out of my life, you know?"

"Fuck, I can relate. Before the Agency came, I thought I was going to be stuck in Arkansas forever. I thought, that's what God had planned for me: a life like my Dad's. It's not that it was a _bad_ life, but..." Jesús was looking at Dave, yet he really wasn't; he was looking beyond him, to a past so distant it might as well have been Biblical times. "This... Now... This is weird, but it's a lot better than I thought I was ever going to get." He focused on Dave once more, giving a small, sly grin. "I definitely never thought I'd ever be with a stud like you."

Dave chuckled, running his hands over Jesús's sides. "Um... I kinda hate to introduce serious shit while we're still naked and all, but..."

"Yeah?" Jesús cupped Dave's cheek.

"I was wondering... what does this make us now? To you, I mean?"

Jesús smiled. "You mean, are we boyfriends now or something?"

"Yeah."

The smile slipped from Jesús's face, replaced by a thoughtful look. "Hm. I don't know. I'm not one of those guys who thinks sex means we have to get married or anything, but I wouldn't have done it with you if I didn't like you. A lot."

"Same here. But then..."

"Yeah. It's not like we have a lot of other options, do we? I mean, I can leave this place and date and shit, but the whole 'talent' thing kind of puts a really big dent in my love life."

"You've thought about this a lot."

Jesús nodded. "Don't get me wrong, I love being able to help people with my power, it's just that... Being able to do that means I had to sacrifice a lot in my own life."

"You can't let anyone in," Dave said softly. "Not completely."

"And I want to. That's why I kind of envy you. You have someone you _have_ let in like that."

"Who?" Dave blinked. "You mean... Kurt?"

"Yeah. You lucky bastard. I get why you love him."

Dave's reaction was pure instinct. "He's just—"

He felt Jesús's arm settle against his side; God, he was so warm. "You may be a friend to him, but I don't think he's just a friend to you."

Dave sighed heavily. "No," he said softly.

"You love him," Jesús repeated.

"Yeah."

"Hey." Jesús gently turned Dave's face towards him. "You haven't betrayed him."

"Huh?" Dave blinked. "Shit, are you telepathic too? Wait, are you _actually_ Jesus, Son of God?"

Jesús laughed. "I wish! But no, it's just that I've done the whole unrequited love thing myself. You wanted _him_ to be your first, didn't you?"

"I..."

"Dave, it's _okay_. I promise."

It was a long time, with Dave just laying there, his hand gently rubbing circles on Jesús's back, before he could answer. "I swear I wasn't trying to use you or anything..."

"I know. I wouldn't have gone through with it if I thought you were. We all need to make connections, right? I don't mind being a fling, if that's what you want."

"I don't... I don't know what I want."

"Then I don't mind helping you find out." Jesús playfully ruffled Dave's hair. "And I think Kurt would want you to at least try to see who else is out there, especially since you're stuck here for who knows how long."

"You're probably— no, I _know_ you're right."

"That's what you want for him, I'll bet, while you're here."

The answer was so easy it didn't even merit a moment's thought. "Yeah... it is."

"Because his happiness matters more to you than your own. Ah, love." He let out a not entirely joking swooning sigh. "Seriously, though, it sounds like you two formed a real bond — the kind most talents never form with norms. Maybe when you get out of here, when you don't _need_ him, and he doesn't _need_ to watch over you... Maybe it'll turn into something more."

_That's what I'm hoping_. That's what Dave thought, but even thinking it felt selfish — like he wanted Kurt to wait for him. The fact that that's what some part of him _did_ want just increased his guilt. "Kurt and I... what we are to each other... it's... complicated." Dave exhaled long and easy through his nose. "This... where I am now... it's probably a good thing. Gives us a break from each other. Lets us figure out what we really want and need." He looked up at the man sharing his bed. "And I really did want this, with you. Do want this. You're a great guy, and I'm glad my first time was with you."

"Thanks." The two kissed — just a brief peck on the lips. "So..." The smile ran from Jesús's face. His hand stilled, over Dave's heart. "I'd like to..." He shook his head, laughing breathily. "Shit, I haven't been this nervous in a long time. Okay, start again." He inhaled. "I'd like to date you. You know, just see where things go. I've had a couple of girlfriends, but never a boyfriend, and like I said, I like you. A lot."

Dave felt himself blushing. "Well... I've never been on a date. With girls _or_ guys..."

"Then I'd be proud to be your first. Again." Jesús took both of Dave's hands in his own. "Dave Karofsky, will you go out to dinner with me tomorrow night?"

"Where?" Dave chuckled, the better to hide his deepening blush and pounding heart. "The cafeteria?"

"Yeah, I know. I figure, it's not a fancy steakhouse, but it's not Denny's either. So how about it?" He smiled. "Tomorrow? Six o'clock?"

"I'd like that." Dave kissed the tip of Jesús's nose. "I'd like that a lot."

"Then it's a date. I'll see if I can get some flowers."

"Wow."

"What?"

"If you did..." Dave's voice caught a little before he continued. "That would be the first time anyone's ever gotten me flowers."

Jesús's smile widened. "Then I'll definitely have to find you some."

Dave hugged Jesús tightly against him. "You're sweet." And God, was _that_ a sign of how much his life had changed — that he actually said something as nauseating as that? And meant it? To a guy?

"Thanks." Jesús's eyes darted about the room. "Y'know..."

"Yeah?"

"I just noticed that your bookshelves are a mess."

"Wha—?" Dave looked; they indeed were, the books fallen and scattered and half pulled out. That meant...

Jesús grinned, cheeky and smug. "Oh, man. I made you come so hard you moved the room." The grin disappeared at Dave's wide eyed stare. "Hey, it's okay," he said, as gentle as his touches during sex were. "That's why you're here, remember? To learn how not to do that? Besides, even if anything bad did happen, I can just heal."

"Yeah? What if I'd just broke your neck without meaning to?"

"I've been listening to you talk about your training, remember?" Jesús's hand snaked down and held onto Dave's. "I trust you."

_I trust you_. Dave hadn't _known _those words would immediately chase all his fear away, but they did. He felt the tension leave his body. "Okay." Dave exhaled. "It's just that... That hasn't happened in a long time. It just brought back all kinds of bad memories."

"Well... I think I can help those memories go away." Jesús rose just enough to settle atop Dave, straddling him. "Ready for another round?"

Dave groaned. "Oh, fuck yeah." Kiss. "But I warn you..." Kiss. "If we keep doing this as much as I want..." Kiss. "My dick's gonna fall off. Or yours."

"Well, then," Jesús said with a laugh, "it's a good thing I'm a healer, isn't it?"

No more words followed — well, there was "Fuck!" and "God...!", but neither man counted those.

* * *

**Year One: December**

It was two days before Christmas, and the entire lake property was covered in a layer of snow. The first night of the trip, Dave stood out on the porch, looking down at the moonlight casting trees and hills and water alike in a soothing white glow.

The peace he felt was unlike anything he'd felt in years.

The days were sledding, skiing, snowman building (with occasional assistance from Brynn), and snowball fights (though both Ray and Cameron demanded a "no power" policy after Dave's first volley). The nights were games, movies, and lots of hot chocolate. For Dave and Jesús, there were moments by the fire, strolling through the lodge with their fingers intertwined, snow angels with joined wings. Many — indeed, most — of these moments took place in front of others, with not a single judgmental glare or shake of the head. In fact, there were one or two silly grins; the others... just didn't react at all.

Those were Dave's favorites.

Like his birthday, Dave's first Christmas Eve at the Agency was a wistful time. After dinner, he excused himself from Jesús. "I just need a little time on my own."

Jesús nodded, pecking him on the cheek. "If you want to talk afterward..."

"I probably will. Thanks." Dave retreated to one of the empty lounge areas, plopping himself by the crackling fire. He rubbed his hands over the warm sides of his ceramic mug and took a sip of cocoa, staring into the dancing orange fingers of flame. His mind was filled with thoughts — so many, it was numb, almost blank. He sighed, letting the heat play across his face.

"Mind if I join you?" Dave's gaze shot up. Deborah stood above him, her own mug in hand. He hadn't even heard her enter the room. As much as he wanted to be alone, he couldn't say no, not to her. He shook his head and waved towards the hearth. He watched Deborah elegantly lower herself upon the brick ledge. "I hope I am not interrupting. You seemed deep in thought."

Dave shrugged. "Not really." _Though not for lack of trying_.

"Nothing serious, I hope?"

"Not really," he repeated. "I guess it's just the time of year."

"Ah, yes. We have all had days like that. Birthdays, holidays..."

Dave snorted. "Yeah, I'm pretty much like every goddamn talent here, aren't I?"

"And is that a bad thing? If so, I am insulted." Deborah sipped at her cup with a grin.

"Nah, I didn't mean it like that."

"I know. You have not been here for very long, David, but I have seen your progress. You've flourished, and I believe more than ever that you belong here. You have so much to learn and teach that I hope you realize how much it means to us all."

_Us, or you?_ Not that Dave would've begrudged the latter. "Thanks," he said, draining his cocoa to its thick dark dregs.

There was a minute of quiet, the only sound the crackling fire, before Deborah spoke again. "So... you and Jesús..."

Dave whirled on Deborah, feeling the blood drain from his face. "Wh-what?"

"You two have been... much closer lately."

"Y-yeah." He wasn't sure why he was panicking, until he realized: he'd never really _told_ Deborah he was gay. Why not? For fear of ending their friendship before it even really started? Kurt would've been disappointed in him. But it wasn't like he was hiding it deliberately — but then, thrust into a hidden research lab run by an international cabal, he didn't think he'd have much chance to demonstrate it. "We..." He swallowed. If Deborah was the woman he thought she was, this wouldn't be a problem. So why was he so nervous? "We're dating. Nothing really serious yet. Just seeing where things go."

The older woman nodded and smiled. "He is a sweet boy. You are lucky to have each other." It wasn't relief that flooded through Dave, not exactly — more like a draining of tension. "Relax, little brother," she said soothingly. "I may have been raised in a... traditional community, but I think I know a little something about being different, eh?" Her eyes twinkled like Christmas lights.

Dave exhaled. "Yeah... Yeah, I guess you would. It's kind of funny, though... Out in the real world I felt like a freak, but now that I'm here, in the international cabal's secret lair, I'm starting to feel... normal."

"Because you are among your own kind, as it were. You are reaching out, forming connections, in a way that was very difficult in your life before. Not that your family and friends do not love you, of course, but here it's... simpler."

"You can say that again. Kurt was the only one I could talk to at all about being telekinetic. I couldn't even tell my dad, let alone my mom..."

There must've been something in the way he glanced at her then, because a smile formed on Deborah's face. Dave flushed. "Oh, no," she chuckled, "I am much too young to be a mother figure." Dave laughed, hoping that his embarrassment wasn't too apparent. "All I have to offer is my life experience; it just happens that it is more relevant to you than it would be to most people. That is why I was asked to help guide you in gaining control of your power. If you need someone to talk to about personal matters, I promise I can at least listen." She smiled. "I served much the same role with my younger brothers and sisters back home. And as I have often said, you, David, are my brother, in soul if not in blood." She laid a gentle, reassuring hand on his shoulder; despite Deborah's warning, Dave couldn't help of thinking of his mother, the woman who reassured him and raised his spirits... at least when she thought he was straight. "We talents must stick together, after all."

It was sheer impulse that drove Dave to open his arms and hug Deborah tightly against him. Her reaction was immediate: throwing her own arms around him. Dave didn't cry (which he was perversely proud of), although he was close. Neither was using their power, but Dave thought he could feel it, just below Deborah's skin, nudging at the telekinesis in his own mind. Somehow, that psychic closeness was even greater than the physical one they were currently sharing.

There was so much Dave could've said, wanted to say: thank you, I owe so much to you, I'm so glad you exist. Instead, he simply said, as strongly as he could through his dry throat, "Merry Christmas, Deborah."

"Merry Christmas to you, David." The two held on to each other for another long moment before separating. "Do you wish to rejoin the others, or...?"

"In a minute."

Deborah nodded, rising with her cup. "I will see you later, then." She left Dave alone with his thoughts, staring into the fire, much has he had been before she found him. But this time, his mind didn't feel as heavy, as blank.

On Christmas Day, there was turkey. There were presents. There was a kiss under the mistletoe with Jesús.

Much like his birthday, it wasn't the same. But it was still good.

* * *

**Year One: January**

"Goddammit!" Dave was a millisecond away from crushing his controller — with his hands or with his mind, he really didn't give a shit.

"Hah!" the voice over his headset crowed. "Talent's not so useful in a video game, is it, telekinesis boy?"

"When I respawn, you are so fucking dead."

"Promises, promises. Show me what you got."

Despite his frustration and rage, it felt good to lose himself in something stupid and meaningless like video games again. He hadn't played for ages — not since Finn — and he liked to believe that his skills were still intact, despite the trash talk from his opponents. It was an Agency-wide tournament over the intranet, with pretty nice prizes, but more than that, it was his _pride_ on the line, dammit.

Besides, this guy was a fucking biomedical researcher; shouldn't he be above rubbing it in like this?

"You're so goddamn lucky you're in Europe," Dave muttered darkly.

"Shut up, both of you," one of the talents in South Africa jeered. "You don't need to fight — you _both_ suck."

Dave gripped his controller tightly. "No mercy," he snarled.

"Wouldn't have it any other way," the researcher said. "Like I said, bring it on."

Dave ended up finishing third — not too bad. With his reward under his belt, it was time for the work: Dr. Park was expecting a paper from him on Tuesday. He'd never been sure what to think about online learning, and the Agency version of it was even weirder. But he actually felt like he was learning a lot. Dr. Mayhew was right; the individualized attention really did make a lot of difference.

By the time he finished with his draft, it was time for dinner. His usual table in the cafeteria was already occupied by Ray, Annette, Cameron, and Jesús; Brynn, Ray informed him, was "preoccupied" with something. After a quick kiss from his boyfriend ("his boyfriend"... holy fucking shit, what was his life?), he was digging into his roasted chicken.

"So how'd you do at the tournament?" Cameron asked. "I would've been all over that, but I had work."

"Got third," Dave muttered through a mouthful of rice.

"Hey! Congrats!" Jesús held up a hand; Dave high-fived without even having to look up. "You going to join us for game night tonight?"

"Yeah, I'll just be a little late. I want to do some of my reading before I get too tired."

"Need any help?" Annette was enthusiastic about offering tutoring; if he hadn't known her, Dave would've assumed she liked showing off her intellect, already pretty prodigious even without her talent. But no, she just "liked feeling useful" however she could. If she'd been an expert at something more age-appropriate, like boy bands, she would've been just as eager to impart wisdom about One Direction at any opportunity.

"Not yet, but I haven't gotten to the tough subjects yet either. I'll let you know."

"So who won the tournament?" Ray asked casually, scraping together his last shards of food into a small pile on his plate. He scooped it up in one swipe of his fork and shoved it into his mouth.

Dave grimaced. "Dr. Royce at the Stockholm lab."

"He's a weird one," Cameron mused. "I hear he's brilliant, but he's like a kid. Video games, Japanese comic book freak, all that shit."

"You'd know about arrested development, wouldn't you?" Ray said archly. Frowning, Cameron extended a finger; a small spark arced from it to Ray's elbow. "Ow! Bitch! You know I only said that because you insulted manga, didn't you?"

"Hey..." Dave said when the laughter died down. "I was wondering... How much do you guys know about the other bases?"

Annette shrugged. "I know about the ones in Stockholm, South Africa, Brazil... There are a lot of smaller safehouses across the world too..."

Dave carefully put down his cutlery, his mind already drifting back to a conversation he had with Dr. Hunt. "Do you know where the... dangerous talents go? The ones they don't trust to not try to kill everyone?"

There were uncomfortable looks around the table. "Just rumors," Ray said slowly.

"What kind? Really bad?" Dave tried to lighten his voice as best he could.

"Not bad," Annette said. "Just... whispers here and there. Otherwise, we couldn't even be sure it exists."

"That may be worse than bad rumors," Jesús remarked. Dave couldn't disagree.

"What do you hear?"

Ray shrugged. "It's somewhere in east Asia. Mongolia, Siberia, somewhere like that. The government there knows about it, but the Agency pays them to keep it quiet and safe."

"And not pay in just money," Annette said. "Pay as in whatever they find out from what they do there."

Dave's blood chilled. "And what do they 'do there'?"

"Keep the talents there from going psycho," Cameron said. "If nothing else, they do _that_."

"But that's not all?"

Ray looked around before lowering his voice. "No, but we have no idea what. The one thing we do know is that it's not experimentation. They're not vivisecting anyone... as far as we know."

"And what do they do to keep them from 'going psycho'?"

The three on the other side of the table glanced at each other again before Ray said, "We don't know that either."

"Whatever they have to," Cameron said, pointing a french fry at Dave. "That's what the Agency does: what they have to. They don't have to like it — they probably don't — but they do it."

Somehow, Jesús knew. Dave felt the warmth of his hand settle over his thigh under the table, and give a comforting squeeze. Dave slipped his hand down and held onto Jesús's. For dear life.

* * *

**Year One: February 14**

Dave hated Valentine's Day — hated it since the first year he had an almost subconscious inkling of why he hated it, the connection it had with the reason he never really felt like giving any girls the cards his mother foisted on him. That was one strong commonality between him and Kurt, even more so after his (dumb stupid idiotic) confession.

But this year...

If Kurt could see him now, he probably would've shaken his head at how easily old prejudices against this "overhyped and overcommercialized" day were discarded. Or maybe he would've been pleased, eagerly proposed a double date with him and Adam.

Seriously, though, he shouldn't have changed his outlook completely just because he had someone to be with for once, right? Plenty of couples didn't celebrate the day, and took joy in thumbing their noses at all the pink and hearts and chocolates together.

But goddammit, apparently he had a romantic side that was buried from disuse or something, because the second it turned February, he was circling the day on the calendar and putting little hearts in it.

Not literally, of course — metaphorically. Just as bad, though.

He and Jesús somehow managed to wangle one of the smaller lounges for themselves. They shoved tables aside until one stood alone in the center of the cleared room. They'd each considered cooking, but rejected the idea; Dave was lousy in the kitchen, and Jesús was self-described as "awesomely average." Fortunately, the cafeteria was doing a special seafood supper for Valentine's Day, so the two simply grabbed their food and retreated back to the lounge.

Dave was the one to light the candles. There were extremely strict controls on alcohol at the base (just the thought of a drunk talent was enough to send shivers through Dave), but Jesús managed to get his hands on some sparkling cider.

They did all the nauseatingly sweet things stereotypical couples did — things Dave never imagined he'd do in a million years. They fed each other shrimp. They toasted with plastic champagne flutes of cider. They held hands across the table as they had raspberry sorbet for dessert.

And then, of course, there was the sex. A lot of sex.

As Dave lay in bed, Jesús's head nestled on his chest as he stroked Dave's belly, he couldn't help thinking that Kurt had been right yet again. This gay thing... Now that he was actually _practicing _it, it (and he) came so naturally and easily that he couldn't believe he'd denied it for so long. It wasn't this overwhelming secret like his power — God, how could he have been so stupid as to think the two were even in the same ballpark?

How could have ever thought that having a man in his arms, loving him, could be anything but wonderful?

"What'cha thinkin' about?" Jesús asked, tracing a fingertip around Dave's bellybutton.

Dave tightened his grip around Jesús's shoulder. "Just... today. Us. How happy I am. How I might never have been happy like this if I hadn't been here."

"How do you figure?"

"Well..." He shifted a little in bed; Jesús's head remained in place. Dave ran his fingertips across Jesús's fuzzy scalp. "For one thing, my power is the biggest reason why I never dated. Now that I'm learning to control it without having to hide it from anyone, that's a big load off my mind. And if I'd dated you while I was back in New York, my friends would never have left us alone. Kurt would've spied on us every chance he could get to make sure you were treating me right. Rachel would've given me lousy advice constantly. Santana would've given you the third degree until you got scared off."

"No way even the scariest bitch could've scared me off from you." Jesús kissed the center of Dave's chest. "No way."

"Thanks," Dave said tenderly. "But the fact is — and I feel guilty just thinking this — this is probably the only time I'm glad that I've been taken away from my family and friends. Here I can just... be with you, learn what it's like to be in a relationship without any pressure. I'm just lucky you've been so patient with me..."

"Hey, I told you, I'm learning too. We're learning together. Just because I've had relationships doesn't mean I was any good at it. And being here changes things for everyone."

"I guess you're right. I just... I'm kind of scared I'll fuck this up. You're my first boyfriend, and... I guess I'm not used to things going so right for me."

"Life of a talent," Jesús said, his voice heavy with irony. "I know I feel blessed with my power, but I know not everyone feels the same way."

The two held hands; Dave felt the ridges and calluses of Jesús's palm and fingers. "I..."

"Yeah?"

"I... had a good time today."

"Good. Me too."

That was not what Dave had actually started to say. It was way too soon for that.

But maybe...

Someday soon...?

* * *

**Year One: March**

Dave was jolted from his slumber by a buzzing sound. He instinctively turned over; only when his flailing arms smacked bare flesh did he remember that Jesús was in bed with him.

"Ow!"

"Shit, sorry." The buzzing continued; it was only when sleep was clearing from Dave's mind that he realized that the sound wasn't coming from anything he owned. "What is that...?"

"Oh. Fuck." Jesús sat up as Dave turned on the bedside lamp. It took a few seconds for his eyes to adjust to the light; when they did, he saw Jesús sitting on the edge of the bed, looking down at his lap.

"Jesús...?"

"It was my pager. I..." He turned towards Dave; the minute their eyes met, Dave knew something was up. There was something there, something deep... Yet at the same time, some emotion... No, not just "some emotion"...

Jesús was afraid.

"They need me." Jesús snatched his boxers off the floor and slid into them.

"Who does?" Dave grabbed at his own clothes; if Jesús had asked why at that moment, he wasn't sure he would've been able to answer coherently. Perhaps he had an inkling of what was to come.

"Medical case." Jesús cursed as he flailed about, looking for his right shoe. "Major."

"I'll come with you."

Jesús froze, his shirt halfway over his head. He quickly recovered, pulling it down over his stomach. "You don't need to—"

"I want to."

"This is work..."

"I know. I'm moral support. That's it."

Jesús hesitated. Finally, he nodded. "Just stay out of the way, okay? This is serious."

Dave nodded. "Of course." He held out his hand. Jesús took it with a grateful smile.

Seconds later, the two were hurrying through the halls, passing by startled janitors and researchers, until they arrived at the infirmary. It was already fuller than Dave had ever seen it; four people in street clothes and two researchers were huddled around one of the beds. They all looked up as the two talents entered, then parted like the Red Sea at Jesús's approach. "What is it?" he asked.

Indeed, Dave was already wondering what kind of injury could've waited long enough for this group to travel all the way to this isolated facility... He craned his neck to see. There was a man in the bed, dressed in a brown suit. He could see the man's chest gently rise and fall, and Dave couldn't see any sign of wounds or distress. Jesús apparently saw the same thing, because he looked at the faces around him in puzzlement.

"This is one of our field agents," one of the researchers said. "He was... attacked."

Jesús looked down at the man again, who still looked like he was peacefully slumbering. "Attacked...? How?"

"We... had a run-in," one of the casually dressed people, a woman in business casual, replied. "With ERI."

ERI, Dave would find out later, was the Eastern Research Institute, an organization much like the Agency, based out of China but not Chinese. Again like the Agency, they were very focused on research about talents — however, their methods, both in the larger world and within (as told in whispers), were _looser_ ethically. If one phrase could sum up their practices and policies, it was "cold ruthlessness". If the Agency "did what they have to," ERI did it with much fewer doubts and much more force. They, in short, were one of those "other guys" Dave kept hearing about and thinking about.

"We think it's some kind of psychic attack," the woman continued. "As far as we can tell, he's in a coma... But it's not like any kind of coma we've ever seen."

Jesús's fingertips gently brushed against the man's forehead. "If it's psychic," he began, "then why...?"

"We don't know how psychic attacks work, exactly," the researcher who'd been silent up to this point answered, "and how they affect the mind. We don't even know what exactly was done to him. But we think there may very well be a physical component to psychic effects in general, on the synapse level if not deeper. If that's so..."

"If it's physical," Jesús said quietly, "then I may be able to heal him."

"That's what we're hoping. We've never had a chance to test it before now, but now... We don't have many other options open at the moment. Are you willing to give it a shot?"

_What the hell kind of question is that?_ Dave almost said that out loud, but managed to stop himself in time. Of course Jesús wanted to try. If there was a chance he could save a life (or in this case, save a mind), he'd do it, no questions asked. Because that was the kind of man Jesús was.

_Unlike some people, who can only destroy with their power..._ Huh, he'd have to talk to Dr. Rossi about that impulse...

Jesús gently laid his hands over the man's head. There was no light that accompanied Jesús's power, no hum like in a big-budget movie, but Dave knew that his boyfriend had started his work. Jesús's face was calm, with his hands tangled in the man's straw blonde hair, moving across his skull. There was dead silence, every eye on the two; Dave almost thought that at least some of the plainclothes people (probably field agents) were holding their breath...

A long minute passed. Then another. Still the man didn't stir. Jesús's brow knitted, his mouth became set. Still his hands rubbed at the man's scalp. Still he did not stir.

"Jesús..." one of the researchers began.

"Wait." Dave could see a bead of sweat roll down the back of Jesús's neck. He turned his attention back to the silent, sleeping man, his eyes searching for the slightest sign of movement. Nothing.

"Jesús..." the researcher repeated, his voice firm but gentle.

"Just give me another minute..."

"Jesús, it's not working..."

"No!" he barked; only the agents failed to jump at the sudden rise in his voice. "Let me do this! I know I can do this!"

"You did all you could." The researcher rested a hand on Jesús's shoulder, who shook it off violently.

Dave felt himself step forward. "Jesús..."

"Please!" Jesús begged, his fingers still pressed against the man's scalp. "I just need a little more time!"

"It's okay..." one of the agents began.

"No, it's not! I can heal him! I have to! I—"

One of the agents took the opportunity to plant himself between Jesús and his comatose colleague. "We're going to transfer him to Stockholm. We aren't giving up on him, I swear. We'll find a way."

"Please..." Jesús's voice was so soft, it was barely audible over the background whirring of the air conditioning system and the beeping of the machines attached to the man on the bed. "Please," he repeated in a voice that spoke of a shattered spirit.

"David..." Dave had no idea how the researcher knew his name, but know it he did. "Maybe you should take Jesús back to his room."

"I..." He looked into Jesús's eyes, eyes swimming with pain, with slowly encroaching resignation, and nodded. "Yeah." He gently held onto his boyfriend's shoulders. "C'mon." He expected resistance; instead, Jesús meekly let himself be led out like a puppy.

They ended up back in Jesús's room. Dave watched as he sank onto his bed, burying his face in his hands. Dave twitched somewhere inside; his instincts were telling him to just quietly leave, so he wouldn't do or say anything to make him feel worse. Instead, he silently sat next to Jesús and put an arm around his waist.

Something broke. It wasn't visible or audible, but something broke. Jesús's face sank into Dave's shoulder; he could feel moisture seeping into the fabric of his shirt. Jesús's arms spasmodically clutched at Dave's sides. He didn't make a sound, except for the gulping of air through his mouth. Dave tightened his embrace and waited, rubbing Jesús's back.

"I couldn't..." he finally gasped. "I couldn't... I've never failed so bad before..."

"You did all you could," Dave whispered into his ear.

"But I was the best chance he had and I failed and how who knows what'll happen to him and what about his family...?"

God, that sense of responsibility... That fear that you were disappointing the world — or worse, the one person most important to you... That your best wasn't just not good enough, it was nothing but a sigh in a hurricane... He knew that feeling. God, he knew it all too well, so he knew that nothing he could say could make it better... Not completely. All he could do was be there, stroke his boyfriend's hair, say what he felt and hope that it wasn't interpreted as empty platitude. "You're an incredible guy. You want to help people so much..." He rubbed his cheek into the top of Jesús's head. "You tried, okay? You tried so hard..." Dave felt himself tearing up now. "It's not your fault..."

"Dave..." Jesús gulped.

"It's not your fault..." God, how often had Kurt repeated those same words to him, over and over? If he'd felt like this when comforting him... How could he have put him through that? "It's not your fault..."

"Dave..." Jesús rubbed his cheek against Dave's chest.

"I'm right here, okay, man? Whatever you need from me... I'm here."

"Dave..."

He kissed the top of Jesús's head. "Right here..." Again, he couldn't tell for a moment if it was his own voice speaking, or Kurt's. Not that it mattered if it helped.

"I love you." The words were whispered; Dave's grip tightened by sheer instinct, as did Jesús's. "I love you, David."

God, what could he say to _that_?

Only one thing came to mind.

"I love you too, Jesús."


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: Finally, got a new part. I'll be trying to finish this before January; probably another four parts or so? Many thanks to totoropirate for Spanish language consultation! (The actually correct stuff, of course. You'll see what I mean later.)**

**Year One: May  
**

_If only Kurt could see me now. _Not just because Dave was gaining more control over his power, but because his power was slowly starting to become a (dare he say it) _normal_ part of his life. He supposed it was a consequence of having to work with it so much, and being around others with abilities like his, but it was still so much beyond what he was used to from the first six years of being a telekinetic that he couldn't help but shake his head in wonder when he thought about it.

"I'm a talent, but I'm also human," Dave said slowly to Dr. Rossi one afternoon. "I'm just a guy... who's able to do more than most people can." He rubbed his forehead. "Shit, I feel weird just saying this stuff..."

"Which is the point," Dr. Rossi said. "Saying it out loud makes it more real. It helps you internalize your developing feelings."

"You sound like Kurt again. He said the same thing about me being gay."

"And was he right?" the psychiatrist asked.

Dave thought for a moment, frowned, then nodded. "I guess he was."

"Then please continue."

"Okay." Dave took a deep breath. "My power has nothing to do with me as a person. I'm not a freak." He blinked... Was he starting to tear up? Why? "I'm not a freak." And why did he just feel like he needed to repeat that? "I'm not a freak." Holy shit... His hands gripped the armrests of his chair; he could feel the wetness streaking down his face. What the hell was this? All those years of Kurt counseling him, all those times he told himself that he wasn't going to let his powers define his self image... Was it _finally_ starting to sink in? "I'm not a freak..." he whispered. His fingers struggled to take a tissue out of his pocket; he tore it in half. He still pressed the shard onto his face, wiping away his tears. "Shit..."

"It just hit you, didn't it?" Dr. Rossi said gently. "Sometimes, no matter how much we _think _we've changed, that we've internalized our lessons, we still need just a little nudge to really embrace it. You're starting to truly embrace who and what you are."

Dave nodded through his tears. "Yeah, yeah, I'm a talent. A telekinetic."

"No, you're David Karofsky. And he's pretty darn unique even ignoring his talent." Dr. Rossi smiled at Dave's snort. "It's cliche, but only because it's true. You'd actually be surprised at how little powers come up in my sessions with talents, at least after a while. More often than not, their core issues — the ones of true importance — have very little to do with supernatural abilities. That's why I'm less interested in your training than I am with your life in general. How are you doing? How are you adjusting to life here?"

It took Dave a few seconds to realize he was being prompted. "Uh... Okay... I guess? I'm definitely getting used to not having any fucking freedom, at least." He paused. "Actually, it's a little scary that I am."

Dr. Rossi nodded. "Understood."

"I guess it's because..." Again, hesitation. He could still be making a big mistake here. Oh, what the hell. "Because I think I actually trust the people here. I think you all do actually care, and... That means a whole fucking lot." Dr. Rossi merely nodded again; Dave returned to his thoughts. "Um, let's see... Schoolwork is going okay. I've been talking a lot with the other labs." _The other labs I can actually contact, anyway_. He was growing more certain that there were more facilities out there, ones he couldn't contact, and didn't even know about — one of the few facts that kept up his dulling edge of watchfulness and mistrust at all. "You got some interesting people out there."

Dr. Rossi chuckled. "To say the least."

"My training is actually going pretty good; I'm learning a lot from Deborah about feeling out my power and where it's coming from."

"And your personal life?" The raised eyebrow told Dave exactly what Dr. Rossi was thinking about.

"Jesús?"

"Of course. You said he's your first boyfriend; of course I'm curious."

Dave blushed. "Yeah, well... Things are going... good. Really good. He's been talking with the other labs too, trying to find ways to help them." The smile faded from his face. "I think... I think he still blames himself for not being able to help that agent." He shook his head. "I shouldn't talk about that anymore... It kind of feels like I'm invading his privacy..."

"Well, if he ever needs someone to talk to, I'm here."

"I'll tell him that." He tried to regain his lost sense of balance. "But we're... we're doing great. Better than I would've thought being in a place like this, anyway. I guess it's... liberating, maybe? Like I'm finally with someone who understands. Not that Kurt didn't, but he's not a talent, so he didn't have any way of really _knowing_."

"Mind if I step in?" Dr. Rossi asked.

"Sure."

"You bring up Kurt a lot, even when I don't expect him to in context."

Dave sucked in a breath. "I..."

"I'm not making any judgments. I'd just like to know if you want to talk about that."

Did he? He talked a lot about Kurt — about what he'd done for Dave, about what it meant to have his friendship and support — but not a word about his deeper feelings. It felt wrong, somehow, to be sharing that part of his heart, even with his shrink. Maybe because he was still gun shy after what happened the last time he tried? Whatever the reason, he already knew his answer to Dr. Rossi's question.

"Not right now. Maybe another time."

"All right. But if I can make an assumption here, he seems to be a very important part of your life, and I think it'd help if I knew just how important."

No denying that, but... "Maybe another time."

Maybe.

* * *

**Year Two: June**

Dr. Mayhew introduced DeSean Walker in a scene oddly reminiscent of Dave's introduction to "his" group. It was in the same lounge, with the same people doing similar things: Brynn and Ray were reading while Annette and Cameron screamed at each other over their controllers. The only major addition was, well, Dave, quietly dismantling both Annette and Cameron with his superior tactics.

DeSean was a tall, lean teenager, dark skinned with eyes that were both wary and weary. He sat in one of the beanbag chairs in silence that was on the edge of, but not quite, sullen — more like... overwhelmed.

Dave knew what it was like to feel overwhelmed.

So the game was paused, and the beanbag chairs were drawn into a circle. This would be Dave's first time as part of this process; he felt his pulse begin to race. He would be part of a talent's first experience here; if he did anything to fuck that up...

"Hi. I'm Brynn Cavanaugh. DeSean, right?" There was no response.

"You play?" Cameron asked, cocking his head towards the TV screen. Still no response, except for DeSean's long, thin fingers worrying at each other. There were looks passed amongst Dave and the others. He felt as delicate as the atmosphere all of a sudden. Just one well-intended word going bad, just one thoughtless remark...

"I'm Dave," he heard himself saying. "I'm a telekinetic." Everyone was staring at him. God, what was he doing? He really wasn't sure. He knew he _should_ have been sure, should have been carefully considering his words before he spoke, but he felt himself being... carried somehow, as if on a current. He wasn't sure where he was going, but somehow he felt as though wherever it was... it was okay. "Before I came here, I felt alone and scared. I didn't understand what was happening to me, what I was. I hurt my brother without meaning to. I felt..." DeSean was leaning forward in his beanbag chair, his eyes intensely focused on Dave, and he knew then he _had_ to go on. He took a deep breath. "I felt like a monster. I spent three years trying to handle it on my own, and I did _not_ do a good job. I caused a lot of pain, without even using my power to do it, because I couldn't handle being... special. I was always afraid, and there were times when I thought seriously about..." He hesitated; should he actually finish the sentence? Could he? Either way, it was clear that everyone around him knew exactly how the rest of it went.

"So why didn't you?" Those were DeSean's first words, and there was a tremor of anxiety in them.

"I got lucky... really lucky. I found a friend, my best friend, someone who wanted to help me, someone I could share my secret with. He was — _is_ — my rock. He kept me strong when I felt weak. He saved my life, a dozen times over." Just picturing Kurt in his mind bolstered him, and he went on. "That's what you'll find here, DeSean: someone like that. A _lot_ of someones, actually. We're here to be _your_ rock. You're not a monster or a freak, and if you don't believe that, we'll be here for you until you do."

There were tears welling in DeSean's eyes, not to mention something else. Dave recognized it: hope, newly born and painful, but hope nonetheless. "I... shit, I..."

"It's okay," Dave said softly. "Maybe the others want to tell their stories too...?" He looked around the circle, and a small voice almost immediately piped up.

"I'm Annette. I was seven when I figured out I wasn't supposed to be so smart."

One by one, each of the others opened their lives up to DeSean. Ray told of his isolation, of teleporting himself to the remotest peaks he could find just to be alone with his thoughts. Brynn talked of paranoia, seeing eyes and enemies in every shadow. Cameron talked quietly and briefly, but forcefully, of guilt, misplaced and otherwise. Dave could tell whenever the newcomer heard something that was familiar, or struck a chord; his emotions, raw and unsteady, showed forth with a purity and openness that Dave guessed wasn't normal for him. When each of them had said their piece, they waited patiently as DeSean silently absorbed all those words, all those feelings, underneath a blank thousand mile stare. Finally, he spoke.

"It... it's nice to meet you guys." He cracked the barest hint of a smile, but it was enough. Dave welcomed the hope that flooded through him.

* * *

**Year Two: July**

_Summer, summer, summertime...  
Time to sit back and unwind..._

Cameron's voice was way off key and dangerously unbalanced, but loud. Ray jeered and threw a wadded up tissue at him, but the attack failed to stop the music (or the dancing, which was evocative of Finn at his "best"). But then, Dave could understand Cameron's mood; they were headed back out to the lake complex, and everyone was looking forward to warm sun and cool waters — to fresh, pure air, unfiltered by sophisticated air conditioning systems.

To a taste of freedom.

Dave took every opportunity he could to bask in the warmth of summer, and not just because Jesús was insistent on applying sunscreen to every inch of exposed skin (though, of course, it helped). Having more opportunities, more options, for things to do with Jesús (swimming, hiking, boating) was intoxicating, even if they ended up just sitting under a shade tree cuddling.

As the weeks and months progressed, Dave found himself thinking less and less about those unguarded moments in public with Jesús: the hand holding and affectionate nudges and kisses. Eventually, he stopped thinking about the others at all, matching the amount of attention they seemed to invest in return.

He was gay. He had a boyfriend. And nothing wrong with any of that.

He could've kicked himself for all those years of suppression and shame. But then, perhaps it took being in a place like this — a place that dealt regularly with far more important and unusual differences than being a guy who liked to fuck guys — to drive the lesson home.

Though speaking of lessons...

Dave wiped his palms on his shorts as he approached Jesús. He was laying in a lounge chair on the patio, soaking in the sun, his head absently bobbing to whatever was playing on his earbuds. Dazzling pinpoints of light shone off his sunglasses, and his lips started tracing random lyrics. Dave smiled, as warm as the summer air, as he knelt by the lounge chair and gently tapped on Jesús's shoulder.

Jesús turned slightly, and his face lit up in his own smile (directed at _him_... God...). "Hey, big guy." They pecked each other on the lips. "Come to join me?"

"No. I mean, yeah, but..." Dave swallowed, suddenly feeling a slight chill despite the heat. He knew intellectually that he had nothing to fear, but somehow that failed to slow his pulse. "I, uh..."

Jesús sat up a little. "Dave? You okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. I just... I'm a little nervous. I've got a little bit of a surprise for you."

Jesús lifted his sunglasses and rested them on his forehead. "Yeah?"

Dave nodded, licked his lips, and took the plunge. "_Te amo, Jesús._" His boyfriend stirred; Dave continued before he could chicken out. "_Voy a aprender español, porque su herencia es__ importante_..." Dammit, what was the rest of it? "... _importante_..._ para usted, y quiero aprender sobre él._" The sentence seemed to take hours — or that was what his brain (his stupid idiotic brain that couldn't hold all those words) told him. But he finally managed to stumble through. Jesús was just staring... God, if he laughed...

"Dave, that... That's really sweet." The tension in his gut melted like ice cream fallen onto steaming hot pavement. "But I thought you took Spanish in high school?"

"I've forgotten most of it. I kind of wasn't motivated to learn... until now." Dave smiled again, laying a gentle touch on Jesús's shoulder; he could feel the skin underneath tremble. "I had to feed that speech into Google Translate." He laughed nervously. "It probably fucked up."

"A bit. But it doesn't change how sweet you are." Jesús wrapped his gangly arms around Dave's chest and hugged him tight. "So you're gonna take a class?"

"Yeah."

"Need a tutor?"

"Maybe," Dave said with a smirk. "I'll need to know all the stuff I won't learn from the courses. Like how to say 'I feel like bending you over and fucking you senseless right now.'"

Jesús laughed. "Well, I can definitely teach you the good stuff." He sighed, leaning his head against Dave's shoulder. "I hope you realize what a special guy you are. You would be even if you weren't telekinetic. It's why I love you so much."

Dave felt a heat that had nothing to do with the warm weather. "I think..." he began, his voice softer than he'd intended, "I think that's the first time someone's ever called me special, and I didn't mind."

"I understand." A light breeze wafted over the two as they looked out at the bright clear sky, the rustling treetops, the ripples of the lake as the faded sound of laughter and splashing met their ears. "Your birthday's coming up."

"Yeah."

"So what do you want?"

Dave pondered. "I dunno, world peace?" He chuckled weakly. "I have no idea. I guess... the things I really want, nobody can actually give me, y'know?"

"I think I do," Jesús said quietly. The two sat in companionable silence, until... "Maybe I can suggest something you may want."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Was that sentence you wanted to learn Spanish for hypothetical or...?"

"What do you—?" Dave's puzzled frown turned into wide eyed realization, which turned into a sly smirk. "What do you want it to be?" he asked cheekily.

Jesús chuckled, hooking a finger onto the collar of Dave's t-shirt. "_Quiero que cojamos tanto que hasta nos duela durante días._"

"What's that mean?"

Jesús rose, pulling Dave to his feet. "Let's go back to our room and I'll show you."

And he did. Oh, God, did he.

* * *

**Year Two: August**

Dave almost missed him. The two passed by each other so quickly that he barely registered the face that blurred by. As it was, Dave actually physically staggered at the realization. Or maybe he staggered because his feet got tangled up trying to stop and turn around at the same time. He had to jog to catch back up to the rapidly retreating figure.

"Brody!"

Brody Weston — or the man he knew as Brody Weston — turned. His expression was one of surprise — definitely not pleasure. But then, they hadn't exactly parted on the best of terms, had they? Even before the revelation, they hadn't been particularly close.

And this was the man he'd trusted to keep Kurt safe? Not that he'd had a lot of choice in the matter if he wanted to explore the Agency's possibilities, but still.

"Dave... Hi."

"Hi." Dave could almost hear the conversation shatter on the floor. He almost wanted to leave it at that, just turn and go, but then he remembered that _he_ was the one who got _Brody's_ attention to begin with. Thus, he had to press on. "So, um..." Great, he'd been wanting to contact this guy — his _only_ link to the outside world, to his friends and family — for months now, and now that he had him right there, he had no idea what to say, what to ask. God, he felt like a complete fucking idiot.

"Everything's fine in New York," came the immediate reply. Was he that predictable? On this matter, he supposed he probably was. "I'm just here to check in on a few things."

"So Kurt...?"

"He's doing fine." Dave had a dozen different questions about the details of "fine," but did he really want to know the answers?

"So you're still in New York with Rachel?"

Brody inhaled through clenched teeth. "I shouldn't—"

Dave sighed, waving his hand. "Forget I asked." The awkwardness was thick now, like London fog.

"But they're all fine. Your dad too. I promised you, and I'm keeping that promise." Brody ducked his head for a moment, but raised his eyes to meet Dave's. "They miss you."

Dave swallowed. "I... Please tell Kurt..."

"I'll tell him what I can the next time I see him."

"I guess that'll have to do."

"I'll tell him you've found friends." Dave looked up, startled, but Brody, with his faraway eyes and faraway voice, seemed to be talking less to him and more to someone distant... Kurt, maybe? "I'll tell him you're still going for your degree. I'll tell him you're learning how to control your power more and more every day, and how much you want to help people with it. I'll even tell him you've fallen in love, if you want."

Dave struggled to find his voice, to pick his jaw up off the floor. It took him a minute. "How... how the fuck did you know any of that?"

Brody smiled tightly. "I asked."

"Why?"

"Because I wanted to know."

There was more to that answer than the surface words; Dave could _hear_ it. But he couldn't dive into any of that, not here, not now. Instead, he cleared his throat and nodded. "I just... I just don't want him to worry about me." Knowing Kurt, that was almost certainly more easily said than done, but hell, anything he could do to ease Kurt's fears, he'd do. He'd already given Kurt too much worry as it was.

"I'll make sure he doesn't freak out too much," Brody said with a smile.

"Thanks, man. Um..." Dave sighed. "And thanks for everything. Well, not everything — I don't think I'll ever forgive you for kidnapping me. But the rest. Finding me. Bringing me here. Giving me the chance to _do_ something with this power I've got..."

Brody's smile turned sly. "Oh, you're starting to believe in the Agency now, huh?"

"Maybe I would've sooner if you hadn't fucking _kidnapped_ me." And okay, Dave felt a _little_ guilty at the way Brody's face fell. But just a little. "But yeah. A little. The people here... I... I've never felt like this before..."

"Like you're part of something bigger? Like you're _normal_?" Dave could only nod. "It was the same with me. Being able to talk with other talents, listen to their stories, _see_ that there was something else out there for me besides being afraid... That alone helped take the guilt away. The Agency really did save my life, Dave. That's why I'll be loyal to them until the day I die."

Dave didn't voice his skepticism that such unflinching loyalty was necessarily a good thing. Then again, _he_ quite probably owed his life to the Agency too, didn't he? And not just them... Sometimes he laid awake at nights wondering how he could possibly ever repay everything Kurt and Brynn and the rest had done for him. Only one answer ever came to him: by using his power responsibly to help others, by making this genetic accident or quirk of birth _mean_ something to the rest of the world, by dedicating every ounce of his telekinesis — maybe even the rest of his life — to making sure that he didn't waste his gift.

He could almost physically feel the burden on his shoulders, the responsibility. But compared to where he was, compared to the burden he'd placed on others... He knew it was nothing. He knew it was what Kurt would want him to do, what Kurt himself would've done in his shoes. How could he ignore that?

What followed was mostly awkward small talk. Then they parted. Dave considered asking him about his life as a field agent, but decided it could wait.

Only later did he realize that he'd never specified whether he wanted Brody to mention Jesús to Kurt. Perhaps it was just as well — he still couldn't decide.

* * *

**Year Two: September**

"Where do I come from?"

Dr. Hunt smiled a little at Dave's question. "That's what we're trying to figure out."

"But there have to be theories, right?"

"We have a few. There are some unusual genetic markers that show promise. The problem is that there are little to no commonalities in those markers between talents, or even categories of talents."

"How is that possible?"

"A very good question, David. But I will say that your presence really has helped us. You and Deborah do have a lot in common, and we've made a lot of progress in understanding telekinesis in particular because of that."

"Really?" Something in Dave stirred. "Like?"

"Nothing you'd be able to understand, unfortunately, particularly since it's all theoretical at the moment. But we're leaps and bounds ahead of where we were before you came."

"So... How many talents are there out there?"

"We're not sure. As far as we can tell, there are fewer than four thousand — but that's only the ones we know about, or even just guessed at. But we think that the rate of talents amongst new births has actually been increasing with each new generation. It's slight, but I for one believe it's definitely there."

"Why?"

"I wish I knew. The potential for superhuman powers isn't exactly something we can survey. In fact, the rarity of it all is one big reason why the existence of powers like yours haven't been discovered by the world at large."

"Why hasn't anyone gone public?"

"They have, in the past. But they were generally lost in the sea of frauds and the delusional, especially in the Seventies. And there has always been strong... competition for the few talents out there by organizations like ours, so talents tend to get... ah... snatched up before they can really gain widespread exposure."

Not to mention the fact that anyone with half a brain could see the risks involved in going public, Dave thought. "But if you have that little to work with... Don't the other organizations have a big advantage, since you say you won't, like, force anyone to join you?"

Dr. Hunt seemed to sense the undercurrents in the question; she nodded slowly. "Yes, we are, to an extent, if numbers are all you're concerned with. But our leaders believe that we make up for it in the long term with the trust we build with the talents we do work with, and I happen to agree." She observed him for a moment, coolly, as though they were in a lab, before continuing. "I'm not saying we're perfect, or that I agree with all the decisions the Agency makes all the time. But it's an imperfect world, and I believe we truly do the best we can."

A roil of mixed emotions stirred in Dave's chest. The implications roused as many questions as they answered. But for the time being, all he did was nod. And, somewhere deep inside him, pray.

* * *

**Year Two: October**

Dave did not like Jeremy Pittman. Nobody really liked Jeremy Pittman. He was, to put it simply and bluntly, an asshole.

"You're kidding, right?"

Take now, for instance. Those were the first words Dave heard when he stepped into the technical support office, iPad under his arm. A tall, broad shouldered brunette teenager was already at the counter, contempt dripping from his every syllable.

"Are you fucking telling me that you're too _stupid_ to fix my computer, or that you're too _incompetent_?"

"I'm telling you," the tech guy behind the counter said with admirable but weary calm, "that we haven't had time yet. We're backed up at least two days on non-essential jobs."

Dave had little idea where the Agency's support staff came from — probably much the same places as the janitors in the White House or the cafeteria workers at the Pentagon. He understood that these tech support guys were specially trained to fix some of the advanced technology used by the Agency. That should've made fixing Dave's iPad a piece of cake...

"Look, I don't know if you've heard, but I'm a fucking talent..."

"Oh, I've heard."

"... And you people are here to support me— us!"

The tech, a skinny man with shoulder length black hair and several ear piercings, didn't lose his chronically bored expression. "Actually, I'm here to support the scientists. You know, the ones who do the actual work around here? Us helping you with your Windows problems is more like a _favor_."

Jeremy slammed his hands onto the counter; the tech guy jumped a little, but otherwise didn't react. "Hey! _Peon_. The time you spend sitting on your worthless ass arguing with me is time you could be spending, you know, _working_. So why don't you put down the Doritos, turn off the porn, and get to fucking work on my problem?"

It was always like that for Jeremy: "Why are you even here? Are you some kind of retard?" "Look, nobody cares. So just shut up and let me eat in fucking peace." "Why? Because I'm _better_ than you. That's why."

The worst part? It wasn't that he was reminiscent of Sebastian Smythe at his very worst, only without the charm. It wasn't that he always seemed to be everywhere Dave was by sheer coincidence. It wasn't that he reminded Dave of _his_ asshole days, even if the Karofsky brand was more physical. It wasn't that his power was useful enough that the Agency higher ups, and thus everyone else, had to tolerate his presence.

The worst part was that part of Dave understood _why_ Jeremy Pittman was such an asshole — and pitied him for it.

The way Dave heard it, Jeremy pre-Agency was much the same person, only with a thicker veneer of charm that fooled peers and adults alike. He was the golden boy: scion of a wealthy family, straight A student, basketball star, class treasurer, your basic popular BMOC. He had early admission to Princeton, a beautiful girlfriend, and, thanks to his mother's connections, a practically guaranteed six figure job once he earned his degree. He had everything, _everything_, going for him.

Then the visions began.

From what Dave could tell, they were not only incredibly painful, but could happen at any time with little warning. Dave once heard Jeremy call them "movies of the future downloaded into my brain with a sledgehammer and a railroad spike." Apparently, the visions were thus far both capable of being changed _and_ 100% accurate if not actively averted — a clear case of what the Agency called a "Priority A" talent.

Dave had to admit that as awesome as such a power appeared, the way it happened to Jeremy mainly made his life suck. First, the visions occurred seemingly at random, which blanketed his life with constant dread over the next attack of agony. Second, the events he saw ran the gamut from completely mundane local happenings to world-shaking events, also seemingly at random — and "not a single winning lottery number," Jeremy once groused. Third, the visions themselves had what Jeremy called "a fucking sadistic sense of humor"; once, he got a vision of a car crash... in the middle of a drive. The pain caused him to lose control of his car, and _cause_ the crash he'd just seen. Fourth, his efforts to actually take advantage of his visions (whether selfishly or not — Dave and the others were surprised that there _were_ times he actually tried to do something unselfish) often caused their own problems. Prime example: the main reason the Agency found out about him in the first place was that he was arrested after beating his chemistry teacher, insisting the man was a pedophile. Only during the teacher's convalescence did evidence of his rather extensive child porn stash become known to the police and the public.

So Jeremy was snatched up by the Agency pretty much straight from jail. His popularity, his girlfriend, his family, his entire bright and shining future, _gone_ in a matter of weeks. And for what? To be poked and prodded, trained in the _hope_ that he could direct his visions and that the "million migraine" headaches that accompanied them could be somehow eased, all the while knowing that his power was so potentially valuable that pretty much every other organization that knew about talents — benevolent, neutral, and selfish — would do literally anything to get hold of him, making returning to the outside world extremely difficult and very risky _at best_?

Dave understood. He knew, all too well, the pain and frustration and fear that could cause someone to lash out. But on the other hand, he knew equally well that it was a reason, not an excuse. And there was no excuse — none — for Jeremy or _anyone_ else to try to ease his pain by heaping it onto someone else.

"Hey." Jeremy spun around at Dave's word, his mouth open in mid-tirade. "Leave the guy alone. He's gonna do the best he can when he can."

"What, you two boyfriends or something?" Jeremy sneered. He cast a contemptuous glance over his shoulder at the now smoldering tech guy. "Hah, I should've known."

"Don't be a fucking dick. Yelling at the guy isn't going to get you helped any faster."

"And what am I supposed to do in the meantime, huh? Can't go out, can't get on the fucking Internet..."

"That's not his problem. He has enough to deal with without getting yelled at for no reason—"

"You stay out of this." Jeremy poked at Dave's chest; the mere contact sent Dave's hackles up. "Just because you take it up the ass doesn't mean you have to have a stick up there all the time."

"And what's the fucking deal with the homophobia?" Dave barked. "We're all in this fucking thing together, and if we're going to be cooped up here, the least we can do is try to tolerate—"

"You can take your hippie tolerance and shove it up your fucking hole with the rest of your dildos. I am a fucking _talent_," Jeremy hissed. "I am the most valuable fucking asset this godforsaken place _has_. I am _important_. My life has fucking _meaning_. So you can move stuff around. Big fucking deal, so can I. It's called _arms_. I am important, and if the rest of you can't keep a lid on your jealousy—"

"_Jealousy_?!"

"Then you might as well just go home to your mommies and daddies right now, because—" Jeremy's left eyebrow twitched. "Because..." He gritted his teeth. "Because..." The word wavered, as did his legs.

Then Jeremy Pittman screamed.

It was a high pitched, top-of-the-lungs shriek of pure torment. It was the scream of a man whose every synapse was being torn asunder all at once. With all his visions, one would think that he would have gotten used to the pain. But no — during one of his (as Ernie Hoffman put it) "actual human being moments," Jeremy had told a group of fellow talents, in an almost-whisper, that "It never gets easier. It always fucking hurts, just as bad as the first time."

He sank to his knees, holding his head and screeching out his anguish. The tech guy stood, wide eyed. Dave finally managed to get his mind together long enough to shout, "Call Dr. Rosemont! Now!" The techie nodded and picked up the phone as Dave knelt by Jeremy's side. He struggled to remember what he knew about the visions: the longest any one had lasted was... four minutes? Something like that? One fact he remembered, because it'd kept him up at night: they never lasted for any less than two. He also remembered that there wasn't much he could do, except...

Jeremy toppled over onto the floor, laying on his side, rolling back and forth, crying and screaming. Without thinking, Dave reached out, gathering the clairvoyant teenager in his arms. Jeremy's fingers clutched at Dave's shirt, tears streaming down his face from his tightly closed eyes. "Help me!" he managed to cry out, his first coherent words. "Please help me...!"

Dave tightened his hold; even if he couldn't see, it was important for Jeremy to _feel_ someone. If Kurt had taught him nothing else, he'd taught him the importance of just knowing that you weren't alone. "I'm here," he said as firmly as he could. "I'm right here, okay? I'm not gonna leave."

"Help me..."

"Dr. Rosemont will be here soon. I'll stay with you until he comes."

"Th-they crashed..." Jeremy whimpered, his eyes still screwed tight and his voice hoarse from screaming. "Oh God they're all dead..."

Dave gently rocked the convulsing form in his arms, even as his heart clenched in his helplessness. "I'm right here," he repeated. "I'm right here..."

It seemed to be hours before Dr. Rosemont appeared, accompanied by a pair of medics shoving a stretcher with them. With swift efficiency, one of them gave Jeremy an injection; almost immediately, his tense body began to relax, his cries drifting off into deep but steady breathing. "You can let go now," Dr. Rosemont said gently, squeezing Dave's shoulder. Slowly, almost reluctantly, he obeyed; the medics loaded Jeremy onto the stretcher and, at Dr. Rosemont's nod, shuttled him from the room. "That was your first time seeing that, wasn't it?" Dave nodded dumbly. "You handled that very well, from what I saw. Thank you."

"Yeah, well," Dave said as he unsteadily got to his feet, his voice cracking, "I was flying pretty blind there."

"But you still did _something_."

"I couldn't let him be alone," Dave said, barely able to hear his own voice over the pounding in his ears and the memory of that _screaming_... But any step he could take to pay forward the kindness Kurt and Finn had shown him, he'd make, even if the consequences did haunt his nightmares for a while... "I don't even know if I helped at all."

"I think you did — no, I'm _certain_ of it. I'll be sure Jeremy thanks you." With that, Dr. Rosemont left, leaving behind the silent Dave and the still pale and shaking tech guy.

The next time Dave saw Jeremy was two days later, in the halls. An odd look passed over the teenager's face before a familiar sneer forced itself there. "You touch me again, fag, and you'll be picking your teeth up off the floor."

"You're welcome," Dave said.

Jeremy's jaw dropped, working for a moment. Finally, his shoulders sagging, he just nodded, then scurried away as fast as his legs could take him. Dave watched him go, finally letting out a breath he felt like he'd been holding for days.

He couldn't help but wonder if Kurt would be proud of him.

* * *

**Year Two: December**

Dave's heart was pounding. He was drenched with sweat, but his foe was still bright and chipper.

"Give up?" Lian Huang asked with a cheeky grin on her face.

"Just... just getting started," Dave panted. "I just... need a second..."

"Too slow, too slow!" she taunted.

"Everyone's too slow compared to you." And it was true; Lian's super speed was pretty frankly dazzling. She couldn't yet keep it up for sustained periods, preferring quick bursts between rests in the normal clock, but even that was pretty damn impressive, especially when experienced up close.

The two were in General Testing C in a mostly friendly sparring match. Their goal was to use their respective powers to keep a dodgeball as long as possible. While Dave thought he had the advantage at first — what was faster than thought? — Lian turned out to be more than a formidable opponent. Dave's power needed _something_ to push against, to work with, whether physical or another telekinetic force, like Deborah's. That meant having to focus and concentrate on whatever it was he wanted to manipulate, even if it was just for a second. Lian was making that very difficult, since her speed enabled her to throw the dodgeball as hard as she was able to run. More than once, Dave found himself dizzy trying to track a wildly ricocheting ball bouncing off walls in seemingly every direction at the same time. It was in one of those moments that Dave realized why Lian warned him to stay in the middle of the room. Maybe the ball wouldn't take off his head or anything, but stepping into its path would hurt like a motherfuck, for sure.

Lian shook her head, tossing the dodgeball in her hand up and down. "You have to think faster!"

"Oh, yeah?" He reached out with his mind, and snatched the ball out of her hand right then and there.

"No fair! The whole point was to use our powers against each other! I wasn't using mine, so that doesn't count!"

"All's fair in love, war, and dodgeball," Dave sneered, though he knew she was right. It was just that some of the nudges and grins he was seeing from the spectators in the observation room were getting to him. Especially Cameron. Dave made a mental note to recruit Ray into a prank against that bastard. He'd most likely jump at the opportunity. Maybe something classic, like the bucket of water propped on the door? Or maybe something modern, like a virus that would mass-send his next flirty e-mail to Dr. Ford to the entire staff? Note to self: ask Annette...

But for now, he had a sparring match to win. The dodgeball levitated out of his hand. "You like playing keepaway?" Karofsky said with a smug smirk. "You're talking to an expert here."

Lian snorted. "Just get on with it."

"Your wish is my command."

And so the chase was on. Dave never lifted the dodgeball higher than Lian could reach; oh, no, that would be _cheating_. Instead, the ball buzzed around the room like a mosquito, making sudden trajectory shifts, abruptly stopping so that Lian whizzed past, zipping between her outstretched hands (and twice, even between her legs). She huffed and puffed as she tried to use her speed to overwhelm Dave's trickery; all the while he stood in one place, arms crossed and grinning like the devil. It was pretty much the exact reverse of when Lian had the ball, leading Dave to suspect that physical speed versus mental speed was pretty much all about who had to react to whom... Unless Lian was somehow holding back or not using her speed to its fullest. He couldn't think of a reason she wouldn't, but that didn't mean there wasn't one.

After the obligatory congratulations and trash talk, Dave joined Jesús and his usual group for drinks at the cafeteria. Through the banter and discussion, he noticed his boyfriend oddly pensive. "Babe?" The two were still working through pet names; they were at the stage where they tried a different one each time just to see how it sounded and felt.

"Yeah?" So when Jesús just responded without commenting on how he felt about hearing that particular word applied to him, Dave knew he must be distracted.

"Something wrong?"

"No. Kind of. I don't know." Jesús sighed. "You know I'm friends with Vic LaGarde, right?"

"Yeah..." The others at the table had already quieted down, fixing Jesús with their attention.

"He just got back from a field mission kind of upset. He had... He had to use his telepathy on people without their permission."

The already darkening mood did a nosedive and crashed in a spectacular fireball, creating a ten mile wide crater. There were hums of conversation around them, but that particular table was utterly silent.

"He was attached to a field agent who was tracking down a talent in Virginia," Jesús continued. "They found her... But it was too late." Jesús took a moment to gather himself; Dave supposed it was a sign of his feelings that he cared more — much more — about his boyfriend's mental well being than the suspense of the cliffhanger he'd unwittingly tossed out. "She can fly, but she didn't know how to control it. She ended up flying in the middle of dinner with her family." Jesús rubbed his forehead with two fingers. "Her dad was really conservative, really Catholic..." It took everything Dave had to stay silent, to tamp down the memories and emotions that pounded at the inside of his skull. "... He thought she was possessed. She had three brothers and sisters, all over ten years old, and the entire family was yelling and screaming and crying, all the time this scared kid's trying to push off the ceiling..."

Dave could see it, see every sordid detail: the anger, the chaos, but most of all, the fear, the stifling terror constricting everyone in the room... He tried to imagine what it would've been like had he given in to his own emotions and told his parents about his telekinesis. Would it have been a similar scene?

He hoped not. He prayed not.

"... The field agent and Vic tried to calm things down, but nothing was working. Worse, the dad was a city council member, and he was threatening to make all kinds of phone calls and go to the press and the Vatican, and no one was _listening_ to anybody and... God, it sounded like a huge mess." Jesús shuddered. Dave put an arm around his waist; that seemed to calm him enough to continue. "The Agency gave them the thumbs up, and Vic... He messed with all their minds, no permission. He made them forget everything. He _forced_ the dad use what he knew to make up an excuse for the girl's disappearance that would satisfy anyone who asked. It... it was the first time he'd done that without permission. He said he must've been lucky to not have to do that before now, but he felt..." Jesús swallowed. "He felt like a rapist."

And little wonder. Before coming to the Agency, Dave had never considered the ethics of such matters. The neuralizer in _Men in Black_ was just an amusing joke and plot convenience. But when he thought about it, especially in light of his personal experiences, its use did tread some uncomfortable moral ground.

This... this was worse.

"That sounds like what they did with my family." Annette's small, quiet voice startled everyone at the table. "I wanted to come here. I really wanted to come. But..." She stopped cold.

"Are you okay?" Brynn's question, and the tone in which it was asked, startled Dave; it didn't even occur to him that the others didn't know this part of Annette's story. But judging by the looks Ray and Cameron were giving, they truly didn't. A chill went down Dave's spine.

"They did the right thing," Annette almost whispered. "I really do think they did the right thing under the circumstances. But..." Again, the "but." Dave didn't press for more; neither did anyone else, and he knew instinctively that no one ever would. If and when Annette wanted to talk about it, they would listen, but until then...

Well, it wasn't like any of them didn't know what it was like to need to keep something to themselves, right?

The question was out of Dave's mouth before he could think about it (a bad habit of his, acting on impulse — so many of his worst memories could've been avoided...). Maybe it was his attempt at a distraction, to take the subject off Annette. If so, it was a pretty piss-poor one. "What should they have done? Vic and that field agent, I mean? Did they have a choice? Was there any other way...?"

There was only silence in response. The group parted in mostly the same way, though scattered with a few murmured words, a couple of pregnant nods, and hugs. A lot of hugs.

Later that night in bed, out of nowhere, Jesús asked his own question in the darkness. "Do you think... Annette really did want to come here? Or did they make her think she wanted to?"

Dave's reply was to hug Jesús tighter to his chest. It was the only one he could think of.

* * *

**Year Two: January**

"You mean...?"

Dr. Hunt nodded. "It's been four months now. We'll continue to take readings and monitor, of course, but..."

"Y-you're sure...?"

"Right now, I'm pretty confident; I wouldn't have said a word otherwise. Congratulations, David: I believe your telekinetic power levels have officially plateaued."

Dave's back felt like jelly. He slumped in his chair, relief flooding through him. His worries about his growing power had diminished considerably since he joined the Agency, between Deborah's work with him and his ability to let everything inside him out full blast in a safe environment. Nevertheless, one of his most persistent haunting fears was finally over. He finally had a limit. He finally had something concrete to catch up to.

He could finally fucking _breathe_ a little.

Terrell grinned. "Man, I understand where you're coming from, but it's still kinda weird to see a guy _relieved_ that he isn't gonna get any stronger, y'know?"

"Yeah, well, there's not much around here that isn't weird, is there?" Dave managed a small grin.

Terrell roared. "You got that right!"

"Still..." Dr. Hunt said casually, as if she'd not been interrupted, "you're far and away the most powerful telekinetic we have on record — _any_ kind of record. I know you don't think much of that, and yes, it is just an accident of birth or genetics or whatever it is that makes a talent what they are, but someone has to be on top, and right now, that's you. And for what it's worth, given your numbers... I don't think you're going to be dethroned for a very long time."

"With your numbers," Terrell chimed in, "anyone who dethrones you will be, like, a talent for the fucking _ages_."

"So I think this may be an appropriate time to ask a question: have you made any decisions on what you want to do with your talent?"

_Shit, this place is fucking _full_ of good fucking questions_. "I... think so," Dave began, "but..."

"But?"

"But it'll take a lot of doing."

"It usually does," Dr. Hunt said with an unusually warm smile.

"Gonna be a superhero?" Terrell asked with a snicker. The very word made Dave think of Kurt, which opened _all_ the usual floodgates of memory and emotion. He tamped them down for the time being.

"In a way," he finally said.

* * *

**Year Two: February**

"I'm glad you could join us." Dr. Mayhew said cheerfully, nodding towards his guest. Brody Weston seemed mildly uncomfortable, his hands squeezing each other in pulses, his right heel tapping out Morse code against the floor.

Or maybe he was just bored. It was hard to trust his initial reactions when it came to Brody these days.

"David has expressed interest in becoming a field agent," Dr. Mayhew continued, "and while I could point him to any one of a number of existing resources, I think nothing can replace a good one-on-one with an actual field agent, especially when there's a preexisting relationship." Dave didn't bring up the fact that the "preexisting relationship" wasn't exactly the best or most inspiring of trust; still, he could tell from Brody's expression that he was thinking the same thing. _Good. He _should_ be ashamed_. "I've thought it would be illuminating for you to talk about your own experiences. What do you think of your job?"

"Well..." Brody's face pinched in thought. "It's... rewarding. It's a hell of a lot more rewarding than I thought it'd be. When I get to _see_ the difference I make, when I find a talent who's lost and confused and scared, and bring him home... That's what happened to me, so I _know_, you know?"

Dave didn't mean to nod along, but he did. "Yeah. I know."

"Still, there's not a lot of that, as you probably could guess. There just aren't enough possible talents being found for me to spend more than half the year actively engaging talents in the field, if that." That reminded Dave: he still had no idea how the Agency or any of the other organizations found talents in the first place. He got the sense that at least part of it was one of those need-to-know basis things, especially since those in the know dropped subtle hints that the process was still unstable and under development. "That's why I was able to spend so much time getting close to you, Dave, and how I was able to stay in New York afterward. Most of the other organizations would've pulled me out as soon as they got their hands on you, but the Agency really does believe in keeping promises and making sure that the talents we take in have something to come home to."

Dave just managed to resist rolling his eyes. It seemed that every meeting with Brody eventually turned into an Agency cheerleading session. Not that he didn't understand, but did it ever even _occur_ to Brody to question his superiors, even the tiniest bit? Probably not, and while again understandable, it didn't exactly inspire the same confidence in Dave either.

"It isn't easy, though. You have to make the tough decisions, sometimes completely on your own, sometimes within moments — decisions that could have lives at stake." Dave couldn't help but think of Vic LaGarde, of Annette... What would they think about Brody's "tough decisions"? "And that's not even thinking about what would happen if you had competition."

"Competition? You mean...?"

"Not just ERI or the Midas guys. Entire governments are getting in on the act on their own. Military too." Brody's face looked like it was set in stone. "I know what you think of me, and believe it or not, I actually care. But I need you to understand what this job is like if you're really thinking about trying it for yourself. When I said that we have to make tough decisions, I was not, and have never been, joking." Dave realized, with a chill, that he believed it. No matter what Brody was like, no matter how much distrust there still was between them, he believed it, because he'd seen for himself how complicated life was as "just" a talent. Being a field agent too, with all those competing organizations and efforts out there... He felt his pulse race just thinking about it. "I've never run into a really complicated case before, but I know it'll probably happen to me someday. And when that day comes, I _have_ to be prepared, because it's not just my life I'm responsible for."

Dr. Mayhew finally cut in. "I can show you what the curriculum for field agents look like, but I'll stick with generalities for now. You'd train in various skills that will be... useful to you in the field: the various powers you may encounter, weapons use, martial arts... You would also learn how to use your own abilities to that end, of course." Weapons use... Learning how to use his telekinesis to deliberately hurt others... Visions of an alley, of broken bodies, cut into Dave's brain. He considered getting up right the fuck now, making his apologies, and running as fast and as far from this entire idea as he could. But... This was one of the best ways he knew of to actually use his powers the way he wanted to: to make a difference. So he forced his gorge down, forced himself to stay seated, forced himself to listen. "You'd have a partner at first, of course, as well as a handler, but you'd gain more independence the better and longer your record."

"Who... Who'd tell me where to go and what to look for?"

"You'd find that out when and if you complete your training. I hope you understand: methods for finding talents are so sensitive that we really can't risk even the slightest word getting out to ears who shouldn't hear them. That's another part of your training: security, personal and otherwise."

"What, you're gonna teach me how to resist torture? Where to hide the cyanide pill?" Dave's voice was edged with sarcasm, but then Brody and Dr. Mayhew exchanged a look and... "Shit."

"Being a field agent is extremely hard work," Dr. Mayhew said. "It's definitely not for everyone, just like any other occupation." He handed Dave a glossy folder; he blankly opened it to reveal colorful pages and brochures. "Why don't you look this over? Think about it? You can get back to me or Dr. Rosemont any time."

After the meeting broke up, Dave was about to head back to his room when a hand on his shoulder stopped him. He whirled around at the touch. "Um..." Brody began, "Kurt..."

Dave's heart felt like it stopped cold for a brief second. "Kurt? Is he all right? Did—"

"No, no, he's fine. He just... He wanted me to say hello to you for him."

"Hello." Dave raised an eyebrow. "That's it?" That definitely didn't sound like Kurt, not at all...

"No, there was more, but... It was kind of personal."

Dave had never wanted more to grab someone by the throat and shake them back and forth until they spilled their guts in his life. In a Herculean effort of will, he only said, "I'd appreciate anything you can tell me."

"Well... He wants you to know that he's doing all right. Adam, Rachel, and Santana all say hello too. He, uh..." The tension flowing through Brody's entire body was actually visible, even to an emotional lunkhead like Dave; who knew where it was coming from, though? "He misses you, and he hasn't forgotten about you, and he never will."

Dave nodded, not trusting his fragile emotions to allow him to do anything else without doing something stupid. "Okay. Um... Tell him..." ___Tell Kurt that I thank God every day he's finally free._ Tell Kurt that I hope he's achieving everything I know he's capable of. _Tell Kurt I owe everything to him._ Tell Kurt that oh god there's just so much it's too much...

Brody shook his head. "I'm kind of sticking my neck out just telling you all of this. He actually wanted me to give you a note, but that was really pushing it. Sorry." He grimaced, and Dave actually did believe he was sorry. _Huh_.

"It's okay." And to Dave's surprise, he was actually telling the truth. "At least I know... Well, thanks."

Brody extended a hand. Dave stared at it for a moment like an idiot before he finally reached out to shake. "I know... I know you don't really like me."

"What, was I that obvious?" Dave asked with a snarky grin.

Brody laughed. "A little." He quickly sobered. "I deserve it, I know that. I made a mistake. I had my reasons, and I still think they were good ones, but knowing what I know now, I did make a mistake. And you have every reason not to like me or trust me. But..." He sighed. "I do like you guys. I really do. I said it before, and I've always meant it. I do want to see things turn out for both of you — all of you. I think you deserve it, and I really am rooting for you. I'm sorry I did what I did, but if it makes any difference, I didn't make the decision out of malice, or because it was convenient for me. I really did think it was the best thing I could do for you and Kurt, even if I was wrong." Dave was silent — mostly because he couldn't think of anything to say. "Okay. Maybe I'll see you again some other—"

"Could you at least tell Kurt..." The words burst out so quickly that Brody seemed startled_._ Dave swallowed."... that I miss him too."

Brody nodded. "I think I can do that." Dave watched him disappear down the hall, then continued to stare long afterward, earning him odd looks from passing researchers, until he finally returned to his room.

That night, laying in bed with Jesús, he described his entire day, and concluded with, "It's making me wonder, though: am I doing the right thing? Is this something I can handle? Is this the best thing I can do with my power?"

Jesús was silent in the darkness for a while before replying, "I think... I think you should at least explore your options. It's better not to leave any stone unturned, you know? I'm not." And by God, he wasn't; Dave knew that. "I think once you have all the information you can get... You'll make the right decision." He shifted in bed, and Dave felt Jesús's chest touching his, his lips touching his. "I'm so proud of you, you know that?"

Dave wrapped his arms around his boyfriend and held tight. "Thank you..." he whispered. It was with that warm glow in his heart, and the warm presence next to him, that he fell asleep smiling.


End file.
